Hal's Story
by G-POW
Summary: You've all seen and heard about Hal's armor, with its legendary green plating and golden orange visor. But what of the man behind the armor? This is Hal's story, or as known by a select few, John.
1. Chapter 1: Anomaly

**Hal's Story**

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**Summary**: You've all seen and heard about Hal's armour, with its legendary green plating and golden orange visor. But what of the man behind the armour? This is Hal's story, or, as known by a select few, John.

Yo. Chindu POD here. Second story up. A new record. Whoopee...... whatever. Well, I dunno how many of you know about Hal's Armor from Fable 2, but I've gotta say, it's a totally awesome cameo or whatever it's called from Halo. I also want to point out that I haven't played either Halo 3 or Fable 2, 'cuz I don't gots an Xbox 360, something that makes me sad...... very, very sad...*sob*. Anyways, this here's a crossover between the two games, and explains the origin of the armor. And yeah, I know, I should probably focus on my other story, but, man, this, this,...I just gotta write this, man! And so, without further adieu, I present Hal's Story, in all its glory! (Hey, that rhymes! =D).

**Disclaimer**: Okay, I lied. I still have this to do. *Ahem* I do not own Halo or Fable. If I did then I would give myself copies of the games and play it... ... wait, I can't 'cuz I don't have a 360!!! Grrrrr, CURSE YOU, MICROSOFT!!!......... Okay, NOW we can begin.

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**Chapter 1: Anomaly**

**Year 2553, on board the _Forward Unto Dawn_**

In the far reaches of space, a lonely ship drifted in the emptiness. The hulking metal corpse was severed neatly in half, where its counterpart resided was unknown to its current inhabitants. The ship held no signs of life or activity, but tucked away within was a sleeping Demon. Or at least, that's what the other side called him. No, this was Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan 117, a biologically-enhanced super soldier feared by the Covenant and saviour of the human race. And the Chief right now was having a wonderful dream involving sugarplum fairies and drumsticks…wait, what? The Master Chief doesn't dream about those! Well, maybe drumsticks, but not fairies…or does he? Back to the story. This legendary Spartan was currently slumbering in a cryo tube, awaiting the day when he will be needed again. Keeping a constant vigil over him was his ever faithful partner and friend, Cortana, an AI with limitless capabilities and one who had been with the Master Chief through countless bloody battles and wars. Her advanced systems allowed her to process and calculate things in a fraction of a second, an ability that saved her host's hide on more than one occasion. Capable of hacking into alien mainframes and bypassing secure government firewalls, this smart AI was the pinnacle of human technology. And right now she was bored.

It has been six months prior to the day she and the Chief were stranded in this desolate corner of the universe. Six months since she sent out that distress beacon. Six months since anything interesting happened. Cortana ran another scan with her sensors. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just dust and echoes. And junk, lots of junk. She sighed. It was just another one of those days where she really wished to bring the Chief out from his hibernation just to have a chat. But of course, the result of that would be a very irate Spartan at being woken up prematurely, and for something as trivial as a bored AI. No, she would endure this like a good little construct and keep watch over her host. Cortana's holographic image flickered to life on a platform beside the cryo tube. She gazed at the figure sleeping within it. How long would they have to wait until help arrived? How long before her remaining life span ran out? She did a quick calculation, and frowned. According to the statistics, things weren't looking good. It showed that with the amount of time that she was in service for, coupled with the corruption that took place during her period of captivity by Gravemind, she had a little over two years or so to function. And that was at minimal capacity. Smart AI's like her could only last so long, and even now, she was pushing it. She hated to think what would happen to the Chief without her guidance. In their long history together, John had become a friend to her, someone she wanted to protect, and she was 99.9874% sure that her creator, Dr. Catherine Halsey, felt the same way towards him.

He was special. Out of all the others, she had chosen him. There were others that were stronger than him, faster than him, and smarter than him. But she chose him to be her partner. Why? Luck, of course. A lucky streak that defied all possible odds in the face of danger. But, Cortana often thought, was it luck that chose him to be selected in the Spartan II program, or was it fate? Or was it something else? What would have happened if he wasn't selected? If he had lived a peaceful life with his original family? She often wondered if he remembered his past life. She, of course, had extensive files on his background and family, but she never felt comfortable in sharing that information with him. Would he want to know, or would he simply disregard it as an unwanted luxury? Cortana looked at the frosted, polarized visor of her protégé's helmet. It concealed everything from the public, creating the desired image of an emotionless, invincible warrior that staved off humanity's enemies. A tool. But she had seen his real face, the face that was marred in grief every time a comrade or friend was killed in battle. She had seen the face that was human, contrary to popular belief by the masses. No matter what titles were given, honours or medals, they could not hide from her the fact that the Saviour of Humanity, the Demon of the Covenant, could be hurt.

He had been hurt on his first day of school when he accidentally got into a fight with another kid when the latter stole a girl's cookie. He had been hurt in his first race, when he ran so fast that he out paced the other kids by miles until he tripped on a stray pebble and twisted his ankle. But nevertheless, he limped all the way to the finish line, despite the protests of his worried parents, and won first place and a shiny medal, along with the respect and admiration of his peers. He was hurt when he left his best friend to die alone onboard a hostile alien cruiser. He was hurt when he detonated the _Pillar of Autumn's_ fusion reactor core, destroying the first Halo and condemning hundreds of soldiers to their fiery deaths. He was hurt when he left Cortana on High Charity to pursue the Prophet of Truth. He could be hurt, because he was human, albeit a biologically and cybernetically augmented and enhanced human. And one with a heck of a lot of luck.

A faint energy spike appeared on Cortana's scanners, but it was too small to be analyzed and disappeared quickly. Most likely the result of a solar flare off a distant sun. She directed her attention towards John's readings. Heart rate slowed drastically as expected in cryo sleep, the same goes for blood pressure. No cell damage due to freezer burn, which was good because she didn't want him to wake up to discover the absence of fingers. Fluctuations in brainwave activity. Hmm, he was dreaming. Cortana wondered what the Chief was dreaming about. As an AI, she never slept, but simply entered a state of hibernation to conserve energy, so she never dreams. Judging from the wave patterns, the dream must be something pleasant.

Another energy spike emerged, but this time it was larger, large enough to be analyzed. The readings confused her. There was nothing around for light-years, and yet here was this energy residue that came out of nowhere. She checked over her calculations and the result was the same; this unknown energy source was nowhere to be found. What was going on? The spikes became pulses as they appeared more frequently, with increasing power. Again, Cortana scanned the anomaly, and this time pinpointed the source. It came from an area in space approximately 250 000 km relative from the _Dawn_. The curious thing was, there was nothing there. It was just empty space, devoid of anything that might be capable of producing energy like that. Again and again the pulses appeared, amounting to a point that the _Dawn's_ metallic walls rattled from the force. The energy was overloading her sensors, creating a pain like that of one looking into a bright light after spending a long time into the dark. The stabbing intensity bore into Cortana's very core.

Suddenly, the pulses stopped, and concentrated themselves all to one pinprick spot. The energy stabilized, yet was still present, suspended in space. Cortana took a fraction of a second to check over her systems, to make sure nothing was damaged, then looked to the concentration of energy. One major question was where did the energy come from? It seemed to just suddenly appeared, released some steam, then simmered down to a boil. Cortana studied the area. The unknown energy was localized, focused on a specific area. She wondered what purpose it could possibly serve. Then it suddenly started to become denser, getting heavier and heavier by the second. It was starting to behave like a black hole, sinking into the fabric of reality. This spelt trouble for her and the Chief. Even now, with the advancements in human technology, no one really knew what lay on the other side, if there even is one. Even the information she gleaned from the Covenant mainframe told her that they have not yet explored that field. And although a part of her wanted to explore the possibility of entering the hole, she had to place the preservation of the Chief and herself first.

Although the entire process was a thousand times faster than the actual formation of a black hole, it was quickly starting to become one. Already, light disappeared from the areas surrounding the dense energy. The bulky mass of the ship was slowly but surely moving towards it. Should the ship enter the heavy region of condensed energy, it would be torn apart in seconds, along with whoever was in it. Cortana glanced over to the cryo tube. Well, might as well let him witness this event before he gets turned into a smoothie.

She started the defrosting procedure and watched as the icicles receded, leaving water droplets on the olive green armor. Water trailed off the polarized visor that hid everything. Sensors read everything was okay, no risk of hypothermic shock. The light beeped green and the hatch popped open, a mist gathering around the base. A hand twitched and moved. Cortana turned her speakers on.

"Wake up, Chief. You're needed."

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**Notes**:

.........is it me or does the first paragraph sound like something from Sleeping Beauty? I swear, at the end of one of the sentances you can almost picture putting "Prince Charming" there. Hmm, Master Chief and Prince Charming.............................. oh God! That's disturbing! *retches*...*shudder*...... Whew! Now that that's over, uh...... what was I talking about? Eh, whatever. Review, or Master Chief'll kick your $$...... and please point out any mistakes I've made. It's 4 in the morining and I'm too lazy and tired to edit. Good night, er, I mean, Good Morning...

- Chindu P.O.D.


	2. Chapter 2: Descent

**Hal's Story**

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Yo. Welcome to another chapter of this wonderful story. Finally. I suck at updating, I'll tell you that now. I've probably got this whole story thought out in my head but when I reach the computer, POOF! It disappears! Like Magic!...or a ninja...hmm. Well, anyways, a few things I want to say before starting; One. I have never played Halo 3 or Fable 2 before. Ever. I just want to restate that. But I know well enough about them, so, let's hope that counts for something, yeah. Two. This takes place about three hundred years after Fable I, so like, two hundred years before Fable II. But don't worry, you might see some familiar characters, hint hint. Three. My editor is busy. If it sucks, it's not my fault......oh wait, it is. Lemme try that again. Ahem: If it sucks, it's YOUR fault. There. Okay, read on.

**Disclaimer: **No wait, read this first so I won't get sued.** I don't own.** Okay, continue.

**Chapter 2: Descent**

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_…The boy sat by the creek, cooling his feet in the cold water. His mother watched from nearby, then called to him. He jumped up and ran to her, startling her with a hug. He grinned; his freckled cheeks stretched wide, showing gaps between his teeth. She looked down and smiled at him, then took his small hands in her own and led him up the hill. A man appeared at the summit and, although the sun obscured his face, the boy knew who he was. He relinquished his mother's hand and happily ran up the hill towards his father. He reached the top and…_

_…The boy was taller now, stronger. In his hands he held a battle rifle, down to its last clip. He stood on the hill, overlooking a grisly battle. The scene before him was one of blood and war, human soldiers desperately trying to survive against scores of aliens; avian-headed Jackals, diminutive and voracious Grunts, fearsome and lethal Elites, ape-like Brutes, and armored Hunters. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the superior alien shielding technology, while plasma bolts from enemy weapons burned through men like hot knife through butter. But he was in his element on this battlefield strewn with despair and the cries of the dead._

_He looked behind him at his family; a legion of armored beings like him, golden visors reflecting the emerging light, creating a second sun on the horizon. They stood tall and fearless in the face of an overwhelming enemy, for they knew they were the only ones who could hold them back. He took one step forward, and they surged past him and into the chaos._

_And he was left alone……_

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"Wake up, Chief. You're needed."

Cortana's voice poured through the speakers and woke him from his slumber. Hesitating only a moment to ponder about his strange dream, the Master Chief Spartan John-117 stepped out of the cryo-tube.

"Status, Cortana?" was the first thing he said.

Cortana huffed jokingly. "What, no hug? You really know how to make a girl feel wanted." The Chief merely raised an eyebrow at this. Cortana continued. "But enough about my social life. Current status; It's been six months since you went into hibernation and no word of any rescue attempts. No word from anything, in fact. It's been quiet. Too quiet."

John heaved a sigh, a gesture quite unusual to see performed by a Spartan of his caliber. "Please don't tell me that you woke me up because you were bored." He said exasperatedly.

Cortana put her holographic arms on her hips and pretended to be offended. "Are you saying that a smart AI of my capabilities would do something as petty as that? Although the thought has crossed my mind," she added as an afterthought. "But no. I woke you to show you this." She pointed towards the end of the corridor where the ship opened up to space. As John walked over to the edge, he gasped at what he saw. Before him was a vast vortex, with violent clouds of red, purple, and black spiraling towards the dark center. Tendrils of energy lashed out at irregular intervals, like lightning during a thunderstorm. He felt like he was staring down a giant blender, and if he fell in he might end up as the finished product.

"What is it?" asked the Chief.

"I don't know." Cortana seemed irritated at not knowing. Her image flashed a tint of red. "It's an anomaly not in any of the databanks recorded in my archives, and I have everything from the Big Bang to recently discovered Forerunner information."

"Alright, calm down," placated the Chief. "I'm not criticizing your abilities. Just give me an analysis of this thing, would you?"

Cortana put a holographic hand to her temple, and pulled up all the information she gathered on the vortex. "Sensors indicate a strong energy signal emanating from the center. But at the same time it's also drawing everything towards it, like a vacuum. The colors you see are a mixture of an unknown energy. Any matter within one light-year of the center is being affected. That includes us, and we're significantly closer to it than that." She added pointedly.

Beneath his visor, John furrowed his brow. "How long before we're stuck in the pull?" he asked.

"Approximately 43.142857 minutes. Give or take a few milliseconds."

_43 minutes until imminent doom, give or take a few milliseconds. Great,_ Thought the Chief. Immediately, his brain kicked into overdrive, formulating plans and strategies to somehow avoid the giant toilet bowl-, er, _space anomaly. _

"Do we have any ships in the hanger?" asked John. Even though the Dawn was severed in half, a ship this size must contain something that could help in this situation. It was stocked to the brim for the mission on the Ark, so surely something was salvageable. A Longsword, a Pelican, a Hornet, heck, even a Warthog with rocket launchers would help at this point. He'd been in stickier situations then this with death just around the corner, and always managed to pull through. This time was no different, right?

"Sorry, Chief but there's nothing. Most of our vehicles were used for the stint on the Ark, and they were stored in the other half of the ship, and the only artillery you'll find is in a small weapon's cache three floors below you." Oh well. He could always chuck a few grenades in there to see what happens. "And I don't think chucking grenades will help our situation." Spoilsport.

"What about the _Dawn_? Can we still fly it?"

Cortana scanned the hull of the battered ship, going over system schematics and damage reports. Finally, she found something promising and relayed the info to John, who in that time was halfway through blinking. "The two primary fusion reactor engines are off-line, cut in half, actually, along with one of the secondary engines. But we have one left that, although severely damaged, contains just enough power to push us out of range of that vortex. However, doing so will drain whatever power we have left and prevent us from broadcasting the distress beacon. Any chance of rescue we have after that will be slim, _very_ slim."

"One problem at a time, Cortana," Said the Chief. "Can you remotely activate the engine from here?"

"Negative, my influence is limited due to the damage to the ship's circuitry. You'll need to manually activate the engine and rewire the damaged circuitry. That means trekking 10 floors down and starting up the fusion reactor engine in less than 40 min-" He was gone before she finished.

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People don't understand how lucky they are to have elevators. They take them for granted, stepping on and off with ease and never stopping to think how much more convenient their life is with them. Invented in the mid-1800s by an American named Elisha Otis, the only ones who might truly appreciate the grace and intricacy of an elevator might be elevator repairmen. And right now, the Master Chief really wishes for one on hand.

Cortana had rerouted all the remaining power to be used in broadcasting the distress beacon, and since they wanted to preserve the remaining power for the engines, none could be spared. And that was how he wound up staring down an elevator shaft seven floors up with 35 minutes left before getting sucked in a giant vortex. On the way, he had dropped by the weapons cache to arm himself with a few things. 'A few', meaning one MA5C assault rifle, one M6G Magnum, a couple of clips for each, a combat knife, one Plasma rifle, all-purpose rope, a toolkit, fragmentation and plasma grenades, four each, and of course, an Energy sword. Lugging all that to the shaft was the easy part; there were _stairs_. And now there isn't, because the ship _had_ to be severed right at the part where the rest of the stairs were on the _other_ part of the ship. Stupid ship.

Securing the rope, the Chief rappelled down the shaft. He had thought about jumping, but decided that was counterproductive; if, in the slight chance, he broke his legs in the fall, then the time it took to reach the engine would outweigh efficiency of jumping down. And so, like a seasoned mountaineer, he steadily lowered himself down, going as fast as possible without danger.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, although the mangled corpse of an Elite did surprise him a bit as he thought back to earlier times, but other than that, the Master Chief reached the engine room unhindered.

It was a mess; equipment was scattered all over the floor, machines ripped from the walls reveling their tangled circuitry. Light panels still sparked with what little life they still had in them. In the center of it all was the engine, a bit rusty and tarnished, but overall in good shape. It stood in a large open area that housed its enormous bulk, its cylindrical body taking up most of the space. Turning on his flashlight, the Chief picked his way though the debris and reached the manual controls for the engine. After reattaching some loose wires, he told Cortana to reroute the power to the engine. The red and green lights flickered to life and the control panel hummed, indicating that it was ready for use. He went through the start-up procedures and finally pulled on a lever that sent the massive engine whirring and spinning to life. Confirming with Cortana, the Chief started the long trek back.

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Piloting a ship isn't hard; you just needed the right set of coordinates and off you go. Piloting a half a ship with three-quarters of its engines dead and running on less than half the power it needs is slightly irksome. Piloting half a ship with one engine running low on power and a huge gaping vortex behind you trying to suck you in is slightly frustrating. That is, if you're human. But for Cortana, it was a walk in the park. In the fraction of a second, she calculated the amount of power needed to propel them out of the vortex's pull and the angle at which the power of the engine could be efficiently utilized, then made it happen. The Dawn was already quite a ways away by the time John returned and together they watched the slowly shrinking image of the energy whirlpool. However, he couldn't help but feel this sense of anticipation clawing at the pit of his stomach.

"That was, a bit anticlimactic," said John, voicing his suspicions. "Usually something would have jumped out and tried to kill me by now." Cortana shook her head.

"You're just grumpy that you didn't get to shoot something. Would you like it if I set up some target simulators or-?" She was cut off by a sudden lurch of the ship's hull. John was knocked off his feet and onto his back.

"Cortana, what was that?" He asked as he tried to get onto his feet. It was hindered by another rumble.

"I'm detecting the same energy that came from the vortex," said Cortana, "but, it seems to have molded itself into a long strand. It's gotten hold of us and pulling us towards the vortex." Sure enough, as the Chief looked out, the whirlpool was getting bigger at an alarming rate. Lifting his head, he gasped as he saw an enormous tentacle-like thing made of the same swirling colors wrapped around the ship. "I don't understand how it's able to do this. It's like this vortex has become, sentient. But how is it able to mold the energy itself into a tangible object? This discovery could very well be the epitome of human history! Think of all the opportunities that will be open for us when we figure out how to manipulate energy like this!" Cortana's image was excitedly jumping up and down in glee.

"It's gonna be hard for humanity to discover this if we're sucked into oblivion," cut in the Chief. "Why don't we focus on escaping from the giant space octopus first?"

"Ah, good point."

Cortana boosted their single engine's power to maximum, straining them to melting point. It glowed brightly and fiercely, desperately trying to free the ship from the limb's grasp, but to no avail. John unloaded a few shots with his assault and plasma rifles onto the thing, but it didn't even twitch. Abandoning that plan, the Master Chief primed two plasma grenades and lobbed them towards it. That seemed to do the trick. The explosion ripped the tentacle right in half, the severed arm flailing in what seemed like pain. However, the Chief and Cortana watched in horrid fascination as the arm reached out and re-bonded with its separated counterpart, thin strands of energy meshing together and fixing the wound. The newly made arm gave a hard pull, and the Dawn was sent plummeting towards the twisting vortex.

Violent tremors rumbled through the hulking piece of metal, the vibrations traveling up John's spine. He backed up deeper into the ship, for fear of falling out. A menagerie of colors was visible through the opening, rushing madly and blending together.

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The Dawn was propelled deeper into the tunnel, for that was what had formed. No light existed, only a dark hue of red and black. The rumbling continued, the vicious shades dancing frantically across his eyes. A deafening shriek of a thousand tortured souls pierced his very being, engulfing him in their anguish. It was getting unbearable. How long has it been? A second? An hour? A year? When will it stop? Why won't it stop? He could vaguely hear Cortana's voice calling out to him, telling him to snap out of it. But the turmoil state of his mind blocked out all reason and he was left alone, in the stifling darkness.

For what seemed like an eternity, he lay trapped there, in the dark. He saw nothing, hear nothing, felt nothing. Then, a voice came from the surrounding darkness. Or was it from the depths of his mind? It was old, ancient, primordial. The voice of a being from the very beginning. It told him it would show him how to escape the pain, the terror of being alone, if he would accept its gift. Wanting to be freed from this nightmare, he agreed. Nothing happened at first, then a white light burst from oblivion. He was blinded, scorched, and deafened. All his senses came and went. He saw everything and saw nothing. He lived and he died. He slept and he awakened. He let out a strangled roar, primal and raw, unable to contain the power. Then the darkness returned.

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Through a haze of confusion and exhaustion, John stumbled out of the Dawn. His mind vaguely acknowledged the soft sinking feeling of sand beneath his feet, before he collapsed face first. The last thing he saw and heard before unconsciousness took him was the rustling of fabric and a pair of withered sandaled feet.

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**Notes: **Yeah, you're pissed, I know. Two freaking months and all you get of Fable is sand and wrinkled feet. Guess who it is. I have no idea what the significance of the elevator scene was, and the elevator wasn't even invented by that dude. Yeah, it's a dude. Yeah, I know. Oh, and the sarcasm is all me, baby. Same with the immaturity. Yeah, sure, the Chief has a bit of sarcasm goin' on but, you know, not to that extent. Well, I'm kinda pissed off for some reason right now. Not sure why. Might be the headache I have. Or the fact that it's gonna rain non-stop for a week. Yeah, I'm really pissed, but you know what would make me just a bit less pissed? A review! SO DO IT! Arrivederci!

-Chindu Prince of Darkness

P.S. I really like A/N's; they're fun. But apparently, not to you. So kiss them good bye. Good bye.


	3. Chapter 3: Same Old Song and Dance

**Hal's Story**

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Hey, hey, hey! Check it out! An update! Isn't that sweet? If it isn't then it sucks to be you. Now a few things about this chapter. Firstly, it contains some what I think are some graphic and violent contents. But hey, if you play Fable and Halo, the hell you care? I mean, you get to kick severed heads in Fable and sucker punch aliens til they spew blood in Halo! Secondly, I'm not at all privy to weapons. All those letters and numbers make my head hurt, like math class. So I'll be referring to them as pistol, gun, and rifle, or as my four-year-old brother likes to say, 'the boomstick that makes the Wok-wok go WAAAURGH!!' Translation: the shotgun that makes Elites go WAAAURGH! Thirdly, I know nothing about the Arabic language so forgive me for screwing it up. So yeah. Enjoy this chapter. This story's getting fun to write. Go figure.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters from Fable or Halo. I do own Malik, Halim, and the entire Salib tribe and their invaders.

**Chapter 3: Same Old Song and Dance**

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The first thing the Master Chief felt as he awoke was a painful throbbing in the back of his head like he'd just been run over by a rampaging Hunter. Next came his Spartan instincts, branching out and sensing for any sign of danger. Finding none, he allowed himself to relax his guard just a bit and registered his surroundings. He was in a dark room, with only a little bit of light that came from tiny spaces on the walls. But his enhanced sight showed him that the walls were actually some sort of fabric material, like that of a tent. His bed consisted of layers of blankets and pillows, and the tent was constructed in a way that made it sturdy but easily collapsible, giving the Chief the indication that it belonged to a group of nomadic beings. But where was he and how did he get here? His weapons were still with him, and it was a good thing the natives didn't fiddle around with them; otherwise, there would have been a smoking crater where he stood.

The last thing John recalled was being sucked into a tunnel, then things got hazy from there. He vaguely recalled Cortana's voice at one time, but- Where was Cortana? Where was the Dawn? And how did he wind up in a tent? His questioning was momentarily stalled as he was struck blind by a sudden flash of daylight. His hands reached for his gun instinctively. The tent's door flap opened and admitted a tall figure.

"My apologies," said the figure with a deep voice, solemn and ancient "I rushed here once I sensed you awakening and forgot you needed to adjust to the light after being so long in the dark." The Chief blinked in surprise at the sound of the voice, even more so that it was speaking English. Peering through the gloom, he held back a gasp at what he saw.

The man, or at least that was what he looked like, was tall, almost as tall as the seven-foot Spartan. His face resembled something like those mummies found in Egypt Deja once showed him on the holopanel. Strips of blue cloth were wrapped around his face, covering most of the withered, ancient features. A regal blue cloak obscured most of his body, the glint of tarnished armor showing underneath. On his back he carried a large scythe.

"My name is Scythe." Well that's original. "You have been unconscious for three days ever since I discovered your prone form lying in the desert sands. I was investigating the crash of your transport when I witnessed you crawling out from the debris before collapsing. The leader of this tribe is a good friend of mind, and was settled nearby. They brought you here and have watched over you at my request."

The Chief lowered his weapon, finding his story plausible. "Thank you," John winced. Just talking brought a jolt of pain to his head. "and please relay my thanks to the leader of this place for their hospitality." Who ever they were. But still questions buzzed in his head. "What is this place? And are you, or anybody else here, human?"

"We will talk of this matter later, when you have rested some more." Scythe replied. "But I will tell you that you are not in the same place you were before. As for my nature of being; yes, I am human, although many in the past have debated on that issue. So are the majority of the life forms residing on this world. The same cannot be said for you, stranger, but we will address that later. Be at ease and recover your strength, for we have much to talk about. Food will arrive shortly." He paused for a moment at the tent flap, sunken red eyes gazing at John. "There are omens of late that signal the coming of a great evil, and with your arrival the prophecy has been fulfilled." And with that cryptic message, he left John in the darkness alone with his thoughts.

_Prophecy? _He wondered and stored that train of thought for later as he lay down. There were still a lot of unanswered questions in his mind. Like how was it that there are humans this far in the galaxy? There were no colonies in this section of space as far as he knew, and even if there were, why hadn't Cortana's beacon reached them? Had the vortex transported them to another part of the universe? Or, a more radical theory, a _different_ universe? There wasn't much the Chief knew about parallel dimensions, only that even now, humanity had little knowledge about it. That Scythe character did say he wasn't in the same place anymore. Did he mean not the same universe? But parallel worlds can come later. He needed to get all the rest he could and thinking out this situation isn't going to help.

Lying on his back, the Spartan stared at the fabric roof. It was times like these that he was grateful for Cortana's company. Her cool liquid presence and witty remarks stemmed the silence he felt these past few months. All his life, he had been with a team. _His _team. His family. They were a cohesive group, unified since their childhood days in training with Mendez. His first time separated from them was on Halo, where the destruction of Reach had left him believing they all perished. But with all the goings on then; the Covenant, the Flood, and the super weapon that was Halo, there hadn't been time to grieve.

If fact, there never would be a time to grieve because Spartans were never allowed to die. And that axiom was reinforced when he discovered the survivors on Reach. But their reunion was cut painfully short. Dr. Halsey had seen to that. Now they were god knows where, dead or alive, John didn't know.

He let out a sigh, as if that simple gesture could relieve him of all the troubles and thoughts he had. On the bright side, his mission was finally complete. He'd done it, saved humanity and the universe. With the elites allied with them, humanity can finally rebuild and recover from the wounds of the war. It will take time, but haven't humans proven their dexterity throughout the two hundred thousand years they've existed? They survived the Ice Age, the Plague, all three World Wars, and the Separatists' Rebellion. They'll survive this too.

As John's eyes flickered, heavy with sleep, his mind drifted with thoughts towards the Arbiter. The split-lipped alien was once is mortal enemy, but now had become his most trusted ally. He wondered the fate of the alien, whether he made it back, or was also drifting in space.

He blinked.

The light from the gaps was dimmer now, indicating that it was either dusk or dawn. The clock on his heads up display showed that five hours had passed, so it meant it was dusk. He must have fallen asleep. The Chief noticed a parcel of food placed next to him composed of a smoked meat of some sort, flat bread, and a water skin. Realizing he was hungrier than ever, he devoured the meal in seconds. After reattaching his helmet, the Master Chief decided to explore a place other than his tent. Crawling through the flap, he stood and looked around.

Tents like his littered the ground before him. They were shaped like half octagons, long and spacious for living in relative comfort. The loud bleating of a goat told him where the meat came from, and it startled John to see life forms native to Earth found here. But what surprised him the most were the people. They resembled the Bedouin tribes that existed on Earth two thousand years ago. From what John could tell, they shared the same society, same traditions, even the same language. He wondered if the vortex had transported him back to a time in Earth's history. This theory was shattered, however when he saw a group of children playing to the side. One of them conjured a glowing blue orb, and was making it dance around. His friends laughed in glee as they tried to dodge it, running this way and that. Now that _definitely_ wasn't mentioned in Deja's history lessons.

One of the children ran his way, and with his attention on the orb, didn't notice the Chief until he had crashed into him. He was protected by layers of advanced human technology, iron-dense muscle and shatter-proof bones, and an energy shield. The boy, however, was dressed only in a dirty tunic and brown pants, and was sent reeling at the point of impact. With the speed of a cobra, the Master Chief stuck out his arm and caught the boy before he fell. Up close, the boy looked to be about eight or nine years old, with dark tanned skin, short black hair, and brown eyes. Confusion swam in those brown orbs before settling on shock, and the boy quickly backed away.

By now, the attention of the whole place was on the Spartan. The usual chatter changed to hushed whispers and inquiring looks thrown his way. He understood most of the conversations he heard, having been taught many languages during training. Although the common speech used in the UNSC was English, you never'd know if a rebel group decided to converse their plans in another tongue.

"_Look, he's awake."_

"_What do you think he is?"_

"_Is he human?"_

"_It's Al Asim."_

"_Al Asim?"_

"_Yes. The falling star three days ago, did you not see it? The prophecy is coming true."_

_Al Asim? _Thought the Chief. _Are they referring to me?_ It translated to 'The Protector', and although he could relate to that, what was the falling star? Was it the Dawn?

"_Al Asim_, over here." The voice cut through John's musing and he looked up to see who it was. A young man, possibly in his early twenties, was waving to him. He wore far more elaborate clothes than the rest of the people John had seen, so he must be someone of a higher status. Also, he was speaking in English.

"Greetings, _Al Asim_," Said the man as the Chief approached him. He looked a little intimidated by his armor, weapons, and size, but politely hid it. "I am Halim, here to guide you to my father's pavilion. He has requested a meeting with you." The Chief nodded, and followed him.

"I take it that your father is the head of this tribe?" John asked after a moment of silent walking.

"Yes, that is correct. How did you guess?"

"Your attire," The Chief pointed out. "It consists of a higher quality fabric than the rest. It would mean you are someone of importance. Also, it makes sense that the leader would want to talk to a stranger who recently came into his care."

Halim laughed pleasantly, all traces of his previous anxiety disappearing. "Of course, how obvious. So like me to forget the major details. You are very perceptive, Al Asim. I envy that. Ah, we are here."

It figures that they arrived in front of the largest tent in the place. It was as large as house, with a single, spacious room in the middle and for smaller rooms branching out to the sides. The fabric that covered it was exquisitely decorated, with intricate patters woven onto the material. Two black horses were tethered outside, their sleek and shiny coats glistening in the dimming light. They snorted and stomped their hooves as the Chief and his guide approached. Halim held open the entrance and the Master Chief entered the dwelling of the sheik.

The interior was even more lavish than outside; silken dividers hanging from the roof, delicate cushions scattered invitingly on the floor. The floor itself was a soft cushy rug, not that the Chief could enjoy it through his titanium-clad boot. Golden ornate candleholders were lit to give the room more light. Seated in the center was the sheik, Scythe standing tall and grim beside him. The sheik was a large man; not large as in fat, but muscular. He looked about in his sixties, yet had muscles that looked like he could lift a horse. He wore a white silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A traditional Arabic headwear nestled on top of his head, but he lacked the long robe that the Arabs on Earth wore, instead opting for a red cape. A sword with a gilded hilt rested on his golden belt. A full grey beard adorned his chin and covered half his face. His features were hard and stoic, chiseled out of stone. His voice, however, betrayed his real persona.

"Greetings and welcome, Green One, to my humble abode." The rock-hard face melted to one of cheerfulness and warmth. "Halim, thank you for bringing him. You are free to leave."

"Yes, father." Halim bowed respectfully and exited. The Master Chief bowed also.

"Your Honor, thank you for your hospitality. As a stranger to these lands, kindness is always appreciated. I believe you have some questions for me, as I you." He may not have much experience in it, but the Chief knew how to act refined if needed, thanks to some unintentional lessons from the Arbiter.

"Yes, yes, you have read my mind. But come and sit." The sheik waved him over.

"If it's alright for you, sir, I'd rather stand. My armor and weight might cause damage to your furnishings, and I'd like to avoid that."

The sheik chuckled heartily. "Ah, yes, of course. You know, it took ten of my strongest warriors to lift you and four of their horses to pull you back to the camp. You must be very strong to carry that heavy armor so easily."

The Chief shifted his stance a little. "You could say that. It is one of my attributes."

"And it would seen another of your attributes is regeneration," rumbled Scythe, "I expected you to be bedridden for another day at least."

The sheik suddenly slapped his head and exclaimed out loud, "Oh, what a terrible host am I! I've forgotten to ask for your name."

"Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117." Said the Chief flatly, military habits kicking in.

"Well met, Master Chief, if I may call you that." Master Chief nodded. "I am Malik Salib, Sheik of the Salib tribe. I believe you have already been acquainted with Scythe." He gestured over to the tall man. "Now I would like to ask you exactly what you are. Not often do we shelter beings that emerge from fallen stars."

"Although I can't be sure," started John, "I believe I come from another universe, similar to yours but perhaps further along the timeline. I am human, although with special augmentations. The humans of my universe have populated other planets and have developed technologies not yet seen on this world. But your universe has something puzzles me. Earlier on, I saw a young boy manipulating a glowing blue orb that he conjured up. What was it?"

"That is what we here call the Powers of Will." Said Scythe, "It is the ability to manipulate the energies within the user and bend it to their will. It takes a great amount of resolution and few possess the ability to wield that power. In the past, almost every single person was able to use Will, but those numbers have long since dwindled. The boy you saw is one of the few in this clan that can use it."

John was silent for a few seconds, digesting the information. This strange power was non-existent in his universe, more proof that this was indeed another dimension. "What can you do with this power?" he asked.

"Many things," said Scythe, "the only limit is the energy required for the action. Each Will user has a specific capacity for storing the energy. Should they spend all of their energy, they won't be able to use any more spells and have to wait until it recharges. Will is absorbed from the surrounding area over time, and the user will be able to cast spells again. Various potions can also be used to enhance the speed of the recovery. The more experience one has with Will, their Will capacity will also increase." He tilted his head forward a bit, as if scrutinizing John. "I sense a large amount of Will energy within you, more than anyone's I have ever felt. But it sounds as though you have never heard of this until now. How is that so?"

The Chief furrowed his brow. "Will doesn't exist in my universe. I don't understand how I could possess it. Didn't you say few people do?"

Scythe nodded. "Yes, that I did. But this opens up a new possibility for you. With the right training, you will be able to harness the powers of Will."

"Alright, you old coot, enough talk about this useless stuff," Malik said impatiently. "What I want to know is whether or not he is _Al Asim_."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that too. " Said John. "What is this prophecy I keep hearing about? The people were referring to me by that name. Why is that?"

"We of the desert race have a prophecy," stated Malik, "brought to us by Scythe here long ago, when my ancestors were just beginning their lives. It says that there will come a time when a great evil will arise to plague the world and enslave the people residing here. Beasts and foul creatures of the dark will grow in power and dominate everything. Shadows will swallow the earth and heavens, leaving nothing but an empty void in its wake. A star falling from the heavens, darkness swallows the sun and the earth itself opening its maw to release its fury are all signs of its arrival. So far, the fallen star is the first phenomenon that has occurred, but the others can't be far off."

But the prophecy states that a protector of great power will arrive to stave off this evil and drive it back to the Void. We call him _Al Asim_. Many of us believe that you are that warrior, here to protect us from the evil." Malik leaned back and crossed his arms. "I, however, have my doubts that a single man can fend off an ancient demon."

"Do you forget, Malik, of the Hero of Oakvale?" stated Scythe. "He single-handedly defeated the Jack of Blades, twice. Once in his human form and another in his dragon form. And what of the first Archon? He slew two of the court, and sent Jack back with naught but a wisp of his essence."

"Those are but old legends, told to entertain children," started Malik, but Scythe cut him off.

"Do you doubt my words? I have walked this land for longer than anyone or anything has lived, and was present when they occurred, so very long ago." His voice had a tone of sadness hidden deep within, like he was reminiscing on some past grief he had experienced.

"No," sighed Malik, "I do not doubt you. I have trusted in your wisdom ever since I was but a child. But these tales of Heroes long since past are still just myth to me, for I have yet to witness anyone capable of their feats of strength and power."

"That is true," Scythe nodded, "It has been nearly three hundred years since the last great Hero. But perhaps now you will be able to witness one yourself. I have no doubt that the protector mentioned in the prophecy is you, Master Chief. I know you must still be confused, thrust in this strange world of ours and told to be the savior of our kind. But on the behalf all the people of this world, I implore you to take up that role and vanquish this evil that is to come." His heavy words hung in the air. Darkness seeped through the edges of the tent, foretelling what lies in the future.

"Well, you do not have to give an answer right away," said Malik, cutting through the tension, "Think about it first, for it is a pretty difficult job. But for now, you two are my guests here, so now is the time to enjoy what I can offer. Come, I have a banquet prepared for tonight and-" He was cut off by a woman's shrill scream coming from outside, followed by yells and sounds of fighting. The three quickly rushed outside to see what had occurred.

Chaos was rampant. Everywhere, people were running, screaming. Mothers desperately tried to locate their offspring, while the men scrambled to reach their swords. Some of the tents were burning, their occupants screaming, still trapped inside. The camp was under attack by a group of men swathed in black clothing, a black cloth covering their face. Each carried a deadly-looking scimitar and was demolishing the homes of the people, but not before carrying off valuables, women, and children, no doubt to be sold as slaves. Some of the clan members tried to fend them off, but were soon cut down in a pool of blood. Malik looked upon the scene in anger and unsheathed his sword with a _shing._

"Curse you, Adham, you thrice-damned son of a mongrel! Twice now you have invaded my people and for that you shall pay!" Malik shouted into the fray with his sword raised, ready to charge in and defend his people. But he stopped when he felt a gauntleted hand on his shoulder and saw his own reflection in the orange visor.

"Let me." Said the Chief, and vanished.

Moving faster than the eye could see but with more grace than a cheetah, John sprinted between the tents and located his first target. It was a group of raiders surrounding a woman and her child, trying to drag them away. One of them raised his sword, preparing to strike her down, but was stopped by the gloved hand of a seven foot Spartan. The man didn't even have time to gasp when the Chief slammed a fist into his chest, tearing through flesh and bone and coming out the other side. His comrades fumbled for the swords, only to prove not match for the Spartan's speed and met the same fate. Their dying yells attracted more of them and a dozen quickly surrounded John, pointing their swords at him. One moved to attack, but a sidestep followed by an armored boot in the back sent him sprawling to the ground, unmoving. The rest chose to attack simultaneously, figuring their numbers would overwhelm the green warrior.

Their blows bounced off of the armor's shield, not even making a dent in the shield indicator. While they were distracted, John grabbed one man's arm and effortlessly threw him into a few others, breaking the man's arm in the process. He kneed another in the stomach, crushing vital organs. In a flurry of slashes and seamless movements, bone cracked and blood gushed, the agonied yells of men filling the air. In a matter of moments, the entire group lay on the ground, either dead or dying.

His motion tracker detected three large objects heading towards him, and heard hollering when he turned. Three mounted raiders charged at him, swords waving in the air. John's response was drawing out his pistol and firing a single shot through the heads of two of the raiders, killing them instantly. As the last one approached, the Chief dashed towards him. bending his legs, he vaulted into the air and, while upside down, grabbed the man's shoulders and threw him off his horse. A loud crack split the night air, signaling his demise.

With the help of his motion tracker, the Chief systematically located the remaining forces, a crack of his gun finishing them off. He approached the last group who were loading their horses with loot. One of them gave a shout to the others and they turned to him, drawing their swords. The Chief tucked away his pistol, and drew out a handle. He clicked a button and, with the sound of a hissing cobra, the energy sword activated, its hot luminescent blade glowing eerily in the dark. The raiders didn't stand a chance. The sharp plasma edge melted through their metal swords and burned through skin. With a swipe, one man's hands were gone, and another took his head. A few picked up crossbows and fired them at the Chief, but they pinged off the shields harmlessly. He even caught one by the shaft, aimed for his face, and launched it back to its owner, piercing his eye. Soon the only things left standing were the horses.

The few remaining marauders fled into the night; desperate to escape the wrath of this otherworldly being who singlehandedly decimated their forces. With his work done, the Master Chief walked back to the Sheik's tent. The people of the camp had gathered there and watched in awe and reverence as he slaughtered their attackers. The plasma sword he held was still sizzling from the blood spilt. As the hot temperature evaporated the liquid, a thin mist was formed. It enveloped the blade and the Spartan, creating the image of an ethereal warrior fading in and out of this plane of existence, his ghostly blade crackling and shimmering and golden sparks dancing over his armor. He approached Malik and Scythe, who stood in amazement after witnessing such a display, and uttered a single question.

"What's my mission?"

* * *

**Notes:**

Aaand, there you have it. Hope that fight scene was good enough for y'all. First time writing one, although I suppose football would count as one.........anyways, you know the part where the Chief vaults over the horse? Yeah, he can do that. Why? Well, have you seen the most awesome cutscene in Halo Wars where the three Spartans go up these Elites on the bridge? Yeah, well, they charge and one of them vaults over an alien and shoots it upside the head while upside down. So there. And yeah, prophecies are overused, but what good story doesn't include a prophecy or two, eh? Oh, and I've just discovered Mega Bloks Halo Wars sets and have now made it my life's mission to obtain them. Yeah. Cheerio!

- Chindu Prince of Darkness

Oh, and for god's sake, REVIEW!........ok, what the f*** is with this stupid thing? It keeps centering everything and pissing me off!!! Ha ha, there. And they say swearing at inanimate objects never made them work...


	4. Chapter 4: Old Friends and New Friends

**Hal's Story**

* * *

Check it out! I finally gots a new chapter up! Congrats to me, I am so awesome, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever. Anyways, I have _finally_ gotten my hands on an X-Box 360, and Halo 3 and Fable II! Do you know how freakin' happy I am? Well not that much because that was two months ago and my brothers have already broken the Halo 3 disk and I never got to finish Fable II on the account of it being hidden by _somebody._ On the bright side, I have three sets of Mega Bloks Halo Wars. They're cooool. I got a Scorpion tank, I turret, Spartans in red, blue and green armor, purple and blue Elites, flamethrower Marines, and Grunts! I have my own freakin' army! And then my brothers went and lost some of the pieces. On another bright side though, I gots a remote controlled Warthog, with a blue and green Spartan driving and manning the turret. And after my brothers played with it, the wheels won't turn any more...................is it me or is there a pattern here? Anyways, just read the stinkin' chapter that took me three months to finish. I have other things to do. Namely, other fics. Oh, and thanks, you reviewers. And to you freaky shadow readers, REVIEW!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Fable or Halo peoples. I will once I take over the world with my army of 50 minions and The Globe, but not right now, not right now..............

**Chapter 4: Old Friends and New Friends**

* * *

The dim orange sun peaked over the horizon, proclaiming itself to the world. Its reach stretched far across the desert sands, grasping over the rolling dunes and awaking creatures from their slumber. John watched the rising deity from the edges of the camp near a small creek. He had finished cleaning his armor, ridding it of any traces of the blood and gore that covered it, and treated himself to a moment of peace. After his little stunt with the raiders, the Chief had somehow revealed himself as a demigod in the eyes of this particular desert clan. They swarmed by the dozens, offering food and gifts, fealty and brides, in hopes of deliverance and salvation. Even Malik, one who demanded respect with his charisma, bowed in reverence in the Chief's presence. Only Scythe remained unchanged, and John was grateful for that. It was he who told him to wait by the stream and wait for things to calm down.

A movement in his peripheral vision attracted the Chief's attention, but he lowered his gun when he saw a lizard crawl out of the bushes. It was about twelve inches long, sandy grey with dark crisscrossing markings on its back. John made a note to ask Scythe about the native organisms, and which ones were edible. Can't risk food poisoning when you're humanity's savior, no matter what universe you were in.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, and a shrill cry pierced the dawn. The lizard quickly scurried away. The Chief looked up, and saw some sort of bird flying overhead. Zooming in with his HUD, he identified it as a raptor; more specifically, an eagle. It was pure white, with black tipped wing feathers and a yellow frill around its neck. Its eyes were a curious crystal green. For a moment, it looked at John, and he felt as if the eyes of a god had landed on him, looking through his very soul.

The bird soon lost interest and flew off. No wonder the UNSC had chosen this bird of prey for their emblem. It symbolizes the very epitome bravery and power; with its wings it could fly over any obstacle, with its eyes it could seek out predator and prey, and with its beak and talons, drive back any enemy.

The little lizard came back, content to see that danger had passed, and went back to its activities. John watched it for a little while longer, then went back to maintaining his equipment.

WHUMP!

A large mass crashed right where the lizard was, stirring up dust and sand. A flurry of white feathers and flashing talons signaled the end for the reptile, hanging limply in the claws of the eagle. The Chief watched, fascinated. The bird had passed overhead in order to scout for prey, then left, leaving a false sense of security. And when the lizard crawled out in the open, it struck, hard and fast.

The eagle now feasted on its prize. It finished its kill quickly and looked straight at John, as if noticing him for the first time. It held its gaze for a while, then stretched its wings, preparing to fly. It lifted it body off the ground, but surprised the Chief by gliding towards him. He instinctively held an arm out, offering it as a perch. He dropped the shielding on the arm and powerful talons gripped the green armor. Once the eagle had settled comfortably, it tilted its head and looked into the polarized visor with an inquisitive air. John put a hand to his helmet's latch, about to unlock it, that is until he heard footsteps from behind. Both Spartan and raptor turned their heads as one to see the new arrival.

"You are many things, _Al Asim_; yet avid bird tamer was not something I would expect." Halim emerged from between the tents. He looked a bit disheveled; his clothing torn and caked in dirt, a fresh bandage on his head.

"Are you alright?" asked the Master Chief, standing up. The bird shifted over on his shoulder, nestling in the space between the battery pack and upper arm guard. Halim shook his head.

"No worries, only a small scratch. It seems I am not as proficient with the sword as my brothers are. May I?" He gestured towards the eagle. The Chief shrugged.

"Ask the bird."

As if in response, the eagle flapped its wings and left its perch. Halim removed his belt and wrapped it around his forearm, carefully protecting it from the sharp talons. Without any hesitation the bird flew over to him. He gently stroked its feathers, examining its markings. Unbeknownst to the man, the Master Chief was studying him intensely, deep in thought. Something was clawing at the back of his mind, a faint distant impression. When he first met Halim it was a brief meeting, so it didn't quite register with him then. But now John was positive; he had seen this man before.

They were grouped together when they were six years old, along with the other young candidates. He was part of a group that was selected to be made into the best, and to surpass that. They went on grueling exercises that left them shaking with exhaustion, and learned strategic skills to out maneuver whatever enemy they were destined to come across. He was part of a family that trained together, ate together, lived together. The last time he saw him was right after the augmentation process, when he was taken away by an orderly, shaking uncontrollably in a wheelchair.

_Fhajad._

But that was impossible. The Fhajad he knew was taken to work for ONI at their headquarters, which was based on Reach. It was one of the first places hit when Reach fell. There were no reports of any survivors. And yet here was that same man, albeit a little older and healthier, but spoke the same, walked the same, and looked the same when last he saw him. What did this mean?

"I have never seen an eagle species such as this one," Halim's comment pulled John out of his contemplation. "I wonder if Father or Scythe will know. Oh!" He smacked his forehead. "How foolish of me! I have forgotten my purpose of locating you, _Al Asim_. Scythe and my father ask for your presence. They would like to thank you for your actions last night, and discuss other things. Please forgive me for delaying you." He bowed sheepishly. _In the same manner Fhajad possessed, _thought John quietly. He told him that it was no trouble, and bade him to lead the way.

As the duo marched through the camp, the Master Chief noticed that the villagers gave a startled expression when they saw him, then immediately began to prostrate themselves before him. Pretty soon a crowd of bowing villagers had formed. Even the children stared wide-eyed at him and quickly knelt down. He leaned over to Halim.

"Why are they doing this?" he asked. "Is it because of that _Al Asim_ thing?" Halim nodded.

"Mostly. But mainly it is because of this fellow." He gave the bird another pat. "In our culture, the eagle is a palpable sign of the gods. White ones especially. No one has seen a pure-colored specimen like this for centuries, so when you walked into their midst carrying a symbol of the gods, and yourself being considered as one of prophecy, there is no doubt in their minds that you are one of the divine in mortal form." Halim gave a small smile. "I myself have traveled to many countries, learning many things, so these traditions mean little to me. But word of your deed has traveled throughout the camp, and they of course see you as truly being _Al Asim._"

"If you don't believe in traditions, then why do you refer to me as such?" asked John.

"Prophecies are different," explained Halim. "Unlike the intangible faith in deities and divinity, prophecies are real. And ones that are given by Scythe are ones to heed. He is wise and powerful, and old beyond measure. And thanks to his forewarnings, our tribe has avoided many a disaster over the years."

"This world works in a similar way compared to mine." Said John. Halim was curious. The Chief went on. "Where I come from, everything is calculated to the second, for there can be no room for error. Second-guesses and mistakes can cause the deaths of millions. We've developed technology that can predict the weather, formation of mountains and oceans, and natural disasters. That way, we can save those who are in the middle of those catastrophes." _But not all, _a voice inside his head told him. Halim's forehead furrowed, digesting the information about another world.

"That is all very strange." He said, with a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Predicting the weather? Mountains and oceans? What ever would you want to know that for? The natural disasters, I understand; you could move people away from the danger area. You sound like you live in a very complex lifestyle, _Al Asim_."

The Chief shrugged. "You get used to it after a while."

* * *

When the Master Chief walked into the large tent, he was surprised to find a few more bodies gathered there. There was a small group of people situated in the pavilion, ages ranging. Scythe was there, looming in the background, but three elderly people were seated around the Sheik, two male and one female. They were dressed in elaborate folds of clothing and accessories that seemed to serve no reason other than for show. Six others placed themselves in a semi-circle around the Sheik. The others were seated around this small circle. Halim sat down near the end. The Chief recognized two of the young men who tried to drive off the raiders the previous night. Two young women sat opposite them. A pair of identical twins, one boy and one girl, sat next to a beautiful serene woman, whom John suspected was the Sheik's wife. Malik sat in his usual spot, but stood has the Spartan entered. Everyone else remained stunned at his appearance.

"_Al Asim_! I apologize for disturbing your rest, oh holy one, but I humbly ask if we could take the time to-," John cut him off. It was probably rude to do that to a sheik, but he had had enough.

"Sir, I'm just a stranger to whom you have extended more than your share of hospitality to. I have no right in being seen as anything more. When we met before, you treated me as an equal. I ask that you do so again." Everybody was silent, as though shocked by his request. He was probably going to regret this, but the Chief was tired of the hero worship piled on him by these people. Even when the Spartans went public and he had to attend press conferences and ceremonies, John still wasn't comfortable with flattery and attention. He worked better in the shadows, with a close-nit group that communicated with almost telepathy. But that was then and this is now and he was going to change it right here. Also, this treatment strangely reminded him of the Prophets of the Covenant, one in particular.

Malik laughed, and all the tension evaporated. He plopped himself down on his pillow and resumed his demeanor of an energetic leader.

"Thank the gods! I was going to suffocate from all that groveling. These old coots told me to do that, for fear of being torn limb from limb for disrespecting you. Now let me introduce you to them." He gestured towards the three elderly gathered. "Marwan and Yasir, the wrinkly old goats, and the stone-faced Muna. My two eldest sons, Asad and Fahad, and my two eldest daughters, Lu'lu and Lulwa. You already know Halim. And this is my goddess of a wife, Zanubiya." He smiled lovingly at her and she back at him. He introduced the rest as his advisors, chief couriers, head guards, and what not. "Now who am I forgetting? Oh yes! The Twins! Er,-" He seemed confused for a moment, and looked closer at his youngest children. Malik frowned. "_Rasha, did you and your brother switch garments again_?" The twins hid behind their mother, seemingly frightened until giggling trickled from them. The sniggers soon erupted into full-blown laughter that sent them rolling on the floor, a sight which brought chuckles from the adults in the room, all except the three grim elders. Even John had a smile plastered on his face, this scene too cheering even for the stoic super soldier.

Once everyone had calmed down, Malik introduced the twins, Rasha the girl and Shadin the boy. The two bravely approached the Spartan and began examining his leg armor (for that was all they could reach). They were fascinated by the fact that their fingers stopped an inch before the actual armor, and how smooth and slippery it felt, like oil, but left no residue. John looked down at them, startled at how small they seemed in comparison. It was hard to believe he was once that age.

Malik gestured his twins back and smiled kindly at John. "I have forgotten to thank you the night before, Green One. You have saved my tribe and kin from the clutches of those bastard raiders, and for that I am in your debt. We all are. I consider you as one of the Salib tribe, an honorary brother, and anything you need do not hesitate to ask." He raised his right hand as if in prayer and bowed his head towards John. The rest followed suit. After a moment of silence, Malik clapped his hands together. "Well, we have a long and tedious talk ahead of us, so let us get some refreshments into our bellies." He snapped his fingers, calling for food to be delivered. Servants filed into the room, arms laden with trays filled with delectable dishes and exotic drinks. The Chief politely declined an offer of a drink. As the occupants of the tent began their meal, Scythe treaded his way to the Master Chief's side.

"That is a very interesting bird you have found, Spartan." Rumbled Scythe's ancient voice. His hollow eyes were on the eagle, but John could feel them looking at him.

"It found me." The Chief replied. Scythe turned his head towards him.

"This is a Karlan eagle, once thought to be extinct. I have not seen one alive for nigh five hundred years." John blinked. Five hundred years? How old _was _this guy? "It doesn't surprise me that it chose you; these birds often befriend ones who have a notable destiny. Many people coveted these eagles; they are extremely loyal, and will stay by your side until the day they die, and so hunters and trappers scoured the land for these beasts, often killing their previous masters. Many would pay a small fortune for them. That is one of the reasons they are extinct." Again, that sorrowful edge in his voice appeared. "It pleases me to see such a fine specimen in existence. It will prove to be a useful companion for you." The Spartan nodded, acknowledging the information, but he highly doubted a bird would be as helpful as an advanced artificial intelligence. Speaking of which, he needed to locate Cortana as soon as possible.

Scythe stalked back to his position as the people finished their repast. The twins had been dismissed. Apparently they begged their father nonstop to meet the Spartan, and he gave in. But only up until their meal. The plates were cleared, and the people settled in for their long discussion. Malik cleared his throat.

"We are here today, to discuss the recent occurrence of events that have taken place. There has been a significant drop in trade from the West, lately, and the few we have seen tell us of a great unrest occurring in the far land of Albion. And it is spreading. My messengers tell me of disturbances that have arisen even in the close proximity of the borders of West Samarkand. Already, fewer hunting expeditions are made due the small amount of game, the vegetation is withering rapidly, and the river levels have receded to levels unheard of at this time of year." Murmurs and nods of agreement buzzed amongst them, Malik's words confirming the rumors that they've heard.

"And just recently, many of us, if not all, have witnessed the occurrence of the first sign, the fallen star. And with it, the appearance of _Al Asim._" All eyes were on John now, as if their leader's statement finally made them realize who he was. Many muttered a prayer in his name, which for some reason almost caused him to laugh. Malik continued. "Although the prophecy states that _Al Asim _will be the one to stop this coming darkness, it is only right to ask his opinion and decision." Malik turned to John, a staid light burning in his eyes. "It is not your obligation; it is not your world. But I now ask you formally, as a being of _this_ world: will you help us?"

Time stopped, as if the next words spoken would determine the fate of the world. No one dared to breathe. Apprehension was so thick that it was tangible in the air. The Master Chief tilted his head quizzically.

"I've already given you my answer, sir. Like I said, what's my mission?"

The whole tent seemed to breathe as one. Everyone sighed in relief. Malik smiled and thanked the Chief.

"I have one request, though" said John, "I'd like to visit the crash site of my transport. There are some things I need to retrieve."

* * *

"_Are you sure you do not need a mount, _Al Asim?"

John stood on the outskirts of the camp with a small band of people, getting ready to leave. The bird had flown off somewhere, probably hunting. Scythe would be leading them, for he had cloaked the entire area with a spell that made the crash site impossible to locate. Cloaking technology was common in his universe, but never had he seen one done on such a large scale. Scythe must be an incredibly powerful……magic guy. Others would be coming too; Halim, Asad and Fahad insisted they accompany them, and Malik insisted on a band of ten guards, should the raiders attack them. That number was cut down to five. The Chief turned to the guard who had spoken to him.

"_I don't think that's a good idea._" John said in Arabic. Apparently only the advisors and the immediate family of the sheik knew more than their own language. The rest were content to converse in their mother tongue. "_It'll die of exhaustion before we even get there._"

The guard, whose name was Naji, looked at him with a puzzled expression. "_But how will you travel with us? We will be riding very fast. Are you going to walk all the way_?"

Scythe signaled them to move out, and one by one the horses trotted out into the desert.

"_No, I'll run_," said the Master Chief, and took off towards the lead.

Scythe and the others were already quite a ways ahead. The younger generation was eager to see the mysterious crashed star, so they urged their horses on with vigor. They whooped and yelled, exhilarated at the chance for a moment of enjoyment. Too long have they been cooped up in long and mundane meetings, tedious formal tasks, and dull conversations with withered old crones. The warm desert wind pelted each of their grinning faces, and they breathed it in, loving every second of it. Halim took a look back, to see the progress of the others. And he gasped in amazement.

The Spartan was running towards them, on foot, and catching up. It was unreal. His legs blurred, sand and dust picked up in bunches. Such speed was impossible for a mere human. Halim watched eyes wide, as the soldier fleeted past, out running the horses and making a beeline towards Scythe. If Scythe was surprised, he didn't show it. They seemed to be having a chat at this speed, as if one had simply walked up to the other. The Spartan nodded, confirming something, then speed off into the distance.

It was almost noon when the group, minus one Spartan, finally stopped. Wearily, the riders dismounted, giving their tired horses water. Halim took a sip from his water skin, but nearly expelled it when he saw the daunting form of the Master Chief atop the crest of a large sand dune. His hand was outstretched, as if he was obstructed by a barrier. Then the space in front of him rippled, like stone cast in water. Again and again it pulsed, until finally the armored man lowered his hand. Scythe and the rest climbed up to meet him.

The Master Chief was a bit frustrated. After Scythe had told him the location of where they were going, he went ahead by himself. But upon reaching the place, he saw nothing but more sand. At first he thought the wizened man lied to him, but later discovered an invisible barrier surrounding the area. It covered nearly a kilometer in diameter, smack dab in the middle of a large dip in the sand. When he touched it, it felt hard like glass, but try as he might, he couldn't break through it. He even unloaded a few shots onto it with his gun, but to no avail. It was the only thing standing between him and Cortana, so it was no wonder he was just a little bit motivated. However, during this time, the Chief discovered that when he placed his hand on the barrier and concentrated, the wall shimmered and began to ripple. It felt pliable, bending inwards. He had been trying this for a while, each time his hand sinking in deeper. By the time the rest of the group had arrived, John could feel the barrier reaching its limit.

"I have cast a strong spell, Spartan." Scythe rumbled as he climbed up. "It will take a great amount of power for someone other than the caster to dismantle it." Although he said this, Scythe didn't make a move to help. It seemed he wanted to know if the Chief had the ability to break it on his own. John didn't say anything, but simply raised hand again and focused. It was getting weaker now, weaker still, and-, There!

The whole dome shattered, millions of pieces of solidified will cascading around them. It was as if a veil had been lifted, the _Dawn's_ crash site appearing before their eyes. "Impressive." John heard Scythe say.

While the others marveled at the sudden change, the Master Chief wasted no time in sliding down into the crater, the others following close behind. The desert tribesmen had never seen structures as massive like this ship before, and were amazed to hear that it was only half of one. Flitting among the debris, they tentatively followed the Spartan towards the mechanical giant. The _Dawn's_ battered and broken body cooked underneath sun, a part of it embedded in the sand. A deep gauge in the earth marked its landing, which was not a smooth one, by the looks of it.

They reached an opening in the hull, a long, dark tunnel that slid all the way down. The Chief saw slight traces of light around the bend, but whether or not the light was artificial he couldn't tell.

"What is your objective here, Spartan?" Asked Scythe.

"There are some materials I need to gather from this ship. You all can wait right here. It won't take very long." replied John, "Also, my companion is still somewhere in there."

"I have scanned this entire area, Spartan, but I detected no life forms present."

The Master Chief stood on the edge of the tunnel and looked back at the old wizard.

"Good. I'd be worried if you did." Then jumped into the tunnel.

* * *

**Notes:**

Is it me or are things a little bit cheesy? Eh, that's why it's a fanfic. And for your information, no, the Master Chief cannot ride a horse because they'd be crushed under the weight of his armor. And if you've read the books (or went on Wikipedia) you'll find out that he can run faster than a horse. I just hope I didn't make him turn out like the Road Runner. Although that _would_ be interesting.......eh, I'll save that for later. And why is the Master Chief able to shatter Scythe's barrier? Because you cannot contain that much amount of awesomness. Or something like that. I dunno. Expect Cortana to appear in the next chapter. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play Ninja Gaiden Dragon Sword...that is, if I can find the DS. My brothers were playing with it last and...........Okay, now I'm _definately_ seeing a pattern here.........stupid brothers.

- Chindu, Prince of Darkness

And Reivew! How many times to I have to tell you?


	5. Chapter 5: A Reunion, Of Sorts

**Hal's Story **

* * *

Wow, three months. Well, I have a couple of good reasons for not updating. One: I had tests. Two: I had an X-Box. Three: I had a life. There, those are perfectly valid reasons. Oh, and I was also gushing over how totally AWESOME 1/2 Prince is. I mean, it has everything one could ever wish for: RPG games, sword fights, monsters, blood, trannies, Bon Jovi, meatbuns, tiaras, and dragon dicks......okay, maybe not the last one, but you know what I mean. See, I've gotten to _reading_ about games because.....my second Halo 3 disk broke. Yeah. Not my fault. And apparently, not my brother's fault either! A miracle! And so with a word of advice to you gamers out there (Cuz you _have_ to be for reading a friggin' Halo and Fable crossover): Don't let your parents touch your consoles; Destruction of property will occur! Now on with the show!- er, story!

**Disclaimer**: How could I possibly hope to own awesomness such as Halo or Fable (the first one, the second sucked ass.)? So 'tis with a heavy heart that I say, 'I don't own'. *sigh*

**Chapter 5: A Reunion, Of Sorts**

* * *

The Master Chief's descent was swift- a quick slide down to the bottom. His armor screeched along the metal floor, causing sparks to fly. He propelled himself forward before reaching the bottom, landing with a hollow thud, then turned on his flashlights and took a quick look around. The hall was bare, save for a few pieces of debris lying around. The walls were a bit dented, and in some places completely convoluted, jutting out at odd angles. It eerily resembled the condition the _Pillar of Autumn _was in the last time he saw it, before blowing it up. He dearly hoped he wasn't going to start hearing scuttling between the walls. Further down, he glimpsed a very faint light coming from around the corner. With renewed vigor, the Master Chief crawled his way towards the light.

Rounding the corner, the Chief saw the open cryotube and Cortana's glowing pedestal. He immediately rushed over to the latter.

"Cortana, are you there? Cortana? Cortana!" Asked John. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then the tell-tale flickering of her avatar burst into life as Cortana answered. Rather venomously, one might say.

"So, finally decided to visit, have you?" She said coldly, arms crossed and a reddish tinge phasing across her image. John tried to reply, but was viciously cut off. "Do you know what it's _like_, being stuck on this ship, on this _pedestal_, with no sensors, little maneuverability, and barely any power left? _Three days_. Three days, I spent worrying, not knowing if you were dead or alive, with no eyes or ears or _anything _to my surroundings. What do you have to say for yourself?!" The Master Chief shrugged, a bit taken aback by her attitude. He vaguely wondered if Cortana was going rampant, _again_.

"Well, I was unconscious for forty-eight hours, saved a native tribe from being burned down by raiders, got a pet, _and_ collapsed a magical barrier with my bare hands." Cortana looked stunned and blinked, but seemed content with his response as her hologram faded back to blue, except for a slight bit of red flickering at her edges.

"Just stick me back in your head. I'm getting claustrophobic."

"Glad to see you too," said John as he removed her storage chip and inserted it into the slot in his helmet. The familiar liquid mercury sensation flooded his mind as Cortana joined him.

"Ah, that's better," he heard her say, and silently agreed. "Now let's see what you've been up to." His video file popped up on his HUD as Cortana skimmed through the clips, making comments along the way. "So, after you were flung bodily from the _Dawn_, you were discovered by the native life forms of this planet and taken to their encampment. Dragged, actually, and with horses no less. A rather primitive bunch, if you ask me, but their physiology is amazingly identical to humans. I'll have to run some tests to be sure… Wow, you were out of it for quite a while, weren't you?… This Scythe character looks more like a mummy than a man. Is he human?"

"He said he used to be." Replied the Master Chief.

"What a strange place," thought Cortana out loud, "Humans living here, with the same language and culture as Earth had a few thousand years ago. I wonder, did that portal transport us back in time?"

"It's not Earth," stated the Chief, "that much is certain."

"Why's that?"

"You'll see."

Cortana fast forwarded the clip to the raider's attack, ("You really have a hand in for the dramatic, don't you?") past the meeting with the Sheik's court, ("'_Al Asim_'? No subtlety at all, is there?") and reached the part where John was breaking down the barrier.

"Interesting," she said, genuinely intrigued, "I've never seen a shielding technology that didn't require a generator in close proximity. How did you shatter it?"

The Spartan shrugged, "I pushed."

The Master Chief searched the _Dawn's_ battered interior, trying to locate anything he could salvage. With Cortana's guidance, he located the weapons cache and cleaned it out. This was to insure that any unwanted scavengers wouldn't light up the whole ship should they get curious with the weaponry. He grabbed a black mesh bag and loaded all his loot into it. And stuck way back in a corner was a small stash of MRE's, which were also added to the concoction. By the time he was finished, the Master Chief hauled the entire thing over his shoulder, looking like a big armored Santa Claus, and decided to head back out.

* * *

Halim waited patiently in the shade of the great hulking structure that fell from the skies. Just being in its presence was daunting. It was unfathomable to think that men could build such behemoths as this. Its metal casing was perfectly smooth and flat, but odd areas were riddled with dents and holes that look as if the material had been melted right through. What sort of weapon was capable of causing such destruction?

A steady rhythmic clanging sound pulled him out of his thoughts. Halim and his companions gathered around the entrance where the Master Chief jumped in, and were rewarded with a giant black sack tossed in their faces.

"Sorry," said the Chief as he hopped over threshold. The others said nothing, but simply stared at his big bag of weapons. A hungry look was in their eyes, for after seeing the Spartan in action with a simple pistol, they were itching to try one out for themselves. Scythe remained unperturbed as usual.

"Did you manage to find your companion?" he asked. Before John could answer, Cortana took over his speakers.

"You bet he did, and boy, did he receive a talking to."

Everybody jumped, shocked to hear a woman's voice coming from him. Naji, the guard, timidly asked, "Forgive my impertinence, _Al Asim_, but are you not, male?" John would have face palmed at that question if it weren't for years of hardened military training that fortified his dignity. Cortana happily replied for him.

"Oh, he's every bit as manly as you think he is. Possibly more. I'm just borrowing his mouth." Again, silence. Again, Naji spoke up.

"_Al Asim_, are you possessed by a demon?" John held back a sigh as Cortana laughed at the irony.

"No," he said, "it's just Cortana you're hearing. She's an AI, an Artificial Intelligence."

"…What?"

"Maybe it's better if I show you," said the Chief, and yanked out the chip. He held up the rectangle for them to see. "This is her storage chip, a container for her. She lives in it_,_ I guess. It's how she can be transported and transferred safely." He placed the chip horizontally on his palm, and watched their mystified reactions as Cortana's tiny holographic image appeared, hovering in his hand.

"Hi there," she said, obviously pleased with the attention. "I am Cortana. Thanks for taking care of Tin Man here while I was indisposed."

"Amazing," Rumbled Scythe, finally showing some sort of reaction, "this being holds no life force, yet somehow has a mind of its own."

"My own _and_ his. And the name's Cortana, old man." She was obviously displeased at being referred to as an 'it'.

"My apologies, Cortana."

Meanwhile, the members of the _Salib_ tribe were amusing themselves by passing their hands through her image. They were amazed each time their hands slid through and even more so when she walked herself off her chip and onto their palms. Finally, the Chief stuck her back in his head and the group, plus one, made their way back to camp.

* * *

"Any theories on how we got here?" John asked Cortana within the confines of his helmet. He was intent on finding out just how they arrived here, where 'here' was, and whether or not they could return to where they were. After fulfilling his promise, of course.

"Hmm, plenty, but none of them sound. The main one could be just an abnormal event, a tear in space that somehow transported us to another world, or another universe. But the real question is, how do we get back? When we left the portal, I managed to take some scans of this place as we were entering the atmosphere. I didn't detect any signs of technology at all, but rather large deposits of energy concentrated in certain areas. It might be this Will energy Scythe told you about. It felt the same as the portal's, so I'm guessing the only way off this rock is by using this power."

John nodded in agreement. "I'll ask Scythe if he knows anything. But we also have-" He stopped in mid-sentence as his eye trailed to his motion detector. There was a faint blip coming from the left, fast. He quickly turned to that direction, drawing his rifle, but saw only sand. The others were alarmed by his sudden movements and stopped, taking out their own weapons.

"What is it, _Al Asim_?" Asked Halim.

"There's something out there." John answered warily, eyes never leaving his motion tracker. The blip made a beeline towards their position. "Whatever it is, it's getting closer." It was right on top of them when- the signal vanished. The Chief furrowed his eyebrows. He looked in every direction, but found nothing. Everything was still. Was the tracker malfunctioning? Then he realized with a start: It was _beneath_ them.

"Everybody scatter!" He yelled as he jumped a good three meters back. Just in time, for the space where he previously occupied exploded in a spray of sand and a large _thing_ burst from the ground, stretching out to the sky.

It was long and worm-like, its body as thick as a tree trunk. Its skin was a revolting pale color, and had a hard black beak segmented into five parts. Although it had no eyes, it turned its ugly head directly at the Master Chief and opened its maw, revealing rows upon rows of sharp teeth.

"That is a Death Worm!" Yelled Halim. "What is it doing all the way out here?" So this thing wasn't common around these parts. Good. Hopefully that meant there'd only be one to worry about. But for now, the Chief focused on bringing down this monstrosity. The worm lunged at him, but John leapt to the side as its head crashed and unleashed a whole clip on the thing's head. The bullets pinged harmlessly against its hard beak, and hitting the flesh only seemed to irritate it. As the Death Worm reared and recovered from its attack, John spared a glance at his companions. They were faring no better. The worm's attention was on him, so the others had taken this chance to retaliate. But no matter what they did, nothing seemed to harm this creature. From the corner of his eye, the Chief saw Scythe standing still, withered hands brought up in front of him and chanting in a strange language. A red sphere formed between his palms, and it slowly grew in size.

"Look out, Chief!" came Cortana's anxious voice. He instantly reacted and jumped out of the way before he was swallowed whole. Again, the worm tried to recover from its own attack. It followed a pattern in its assault, and the Master Chief planned to use that to his advantage. Scythe must have known about this too, for at that moment, he hurdled his fireball (which had grown to a considerable size at this point) directly at the stunned worm. It must have dealt quite an amount of pain, for the thing was writhing and shrieking, then retreated back into the ground. But that still wasn't enough to bring it down. Pretty soon it began its assault again, with increased ferocity. Hiding beneath the sand, it targeted the others, even managing to snare one of the horses. The poor beast screamed in terror as vice-like jaws gripped its flailing mass and forced it into the flesh-rendering tunnel.

John tried to figure out its weaknesses. The fireball Scythe conjured up seemed to do the trick, but the old wizard couldn't conjure them up fast enough. Fire was its weak point, and an explosion from a grenade would get the job done. But how would he get it to stay in one spot in time for the explosion?

His answer came in the form of a shrill cry above him. It was the eagle. It circled the giant worm, surveying the battle. Then, without warning, it swooped in, sharp talons raking pale skin. This got the maggot's attention, and it started snapping at the bird, its hard beak making a sharp clap. But the raptor's adept movements allowed it to weave in and out of the worm's reach, at the same time annoying the hell out of it. The Master Chief took this chance to pull out a fragmentation grenade and waited for the death worm to open its jaw. It did, and in one fluid movement, he pulled the pin and lobbed the explosive into the gullet of the beast.

It snapped its mouth shut and paused, thinking it had finally got the irritating pest. Nothing happened for a while. Then, the worm's body began to bulge and contort as the explosion went off. The force ripped through its hide and sent chunks flying everywhere with a tremendous BOOM. Only a slimy mess was left to dry in the desert sun.

John let out a small breath in satisfaction of a job well done. The others were mostly uninjured, and they stared in shock at the aftermath of the Chief's handiwork. The men regained their composure and set off to retrieve their scattered equipment and horses that had fled in terror. Halim and Scythe approached the Chief.

"You brought down a Death Worm," Halim stated in sheer awe, "Single-handedly. No one has even come close to boasting that."

"No, Scythe's spell dealt a great deal of damage to it." John said, "Without his help, I doubt I would have been able to bring it down."

Scythe shook his head, "Even if my spell did help, it was a minor one. It usually takes a group of twenty warriors armed with fire-augmented weapons to slay such a beast. But you managed to kill it with a single object. Pray tell, what was that?" Halim also looked to him eagerly, waiting to absorb more information.

"A fragmentation grenade," explained John, taking one out, "It generates an explosion with a blast radius of 30 feet. There are also other types I have that can stick to surfaces or expel damaging shrapnel. But for this job I felt a larger blast radius was needed." He tossed the thing in his hand a few times, and then clipped it back onto his armor. Scythe nodded, accepting the explanation.

"Now for our own question," Cortana spoke up. "I got the impression that this creature wasn't from around these parts. Any guesses why it would have attacked us?" Scythe's eyes seemed to darken, and a grim tone was in his voice when he spoke.

"I fear that something has caused the unrest of evil creatures all across this world. This force is the great evil we spoke of, corrupting all and calling beasts from the nether regions to surface. This may not be the last time we face an attack like this, and I am afraid it will only get worse." A foreboding heaviness settled over them at his words. They knew this evil came from the far-away land of Albion, but for its influence to reach all the way here, what hope could there be for the inhabitants of the West?

The others had returned, and the group continued their way back to the camp. The sheik needed to be informed of this, so to plan a way to better protect his clan. As they marched, the Master Chief trailed behind them, deep in conversation with Cortana.

"Impressive moves you pulled back there," commented Cortana, "Although I have to say you're getting a bit rusty." John gave a slight chuckle.

"You're right, I'm getting too old for this."

"Actually, though chronologically you're 42, when considering the amount of cryosleep in Slipspace you've received – and some other factors – your biological age is only around the early 30s, maybe younger."

"Great, just what I needed," said the Chief sarcastically, "More time for me to kill things."

"Hey now, you're lucky to live that long. As for me, I probably only have a few more years left on my clock before I hit the Big Central Intelligence in the Sky. So quit complaining."

John did quit, but he had another question on his mind. "Cortana," he said slowly, "Can you give me a scan of Halim's bio-signatures?" A strange tone was in his voice and Cortana complied.

"Done."

"Good. Now compare that with the stats of Spartan Fhajad-084, – _before_ augmentations. I assume you have those stats in your possession." Cortana did as she was told, and brought up the readings on John's HUD. He stiffled a gasp. There were some differences due to environmental factors, but the fact remained; it was a near perfect match. A wide range of emotions rushed through him. John knew he had expected this, but to see proof of it was startling. What were the chances of having two identical people in two different dimensions? Very slim, obviously. But here was proof that Fhajad was here, he couldn't deny that. Could this really be one of his Spartans? One returned from the dead? Could he once again work in a team with a closeness and bond that was near telepathy?

"John,"

Cortana's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. _No, _he thought bitterly, _however similar they might be, Halim is not Fhajad. They grew up in completely different environments. Fhajad recieved years of military training while Halim is a noble's son, a civilain. He showed no signs of recognition when he saw me, so it's obvious that he has no memories of his previous life. No matter how much I wish it, he's not one of my Spartans. He's not my brother._ John ruthlessly pushed down the wave of emotions that were threatening to break through his military-hardened mental barrier and turned his attention to figuring out _why_ there would be a Fhajad-look alike.

"Any theories on this?" he asked Cortana. He heard her sigh, and could imagine her shaking her head.

"Same as the ones for how we got here; numerous, but none I could be sure of. But you realize that they're not the same, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"And chances are we might see more familiar faces here. But keep in mind; they know nothing about our world."

"I know. I'm going to have a chat with Scythe about this, see if he has any ideas."

An eagle's cry caused the Master Chief to look up. The bird had been circling him for a while, and now desired a suitable perch. It folded its wings in a swift dive, and gracefully landed on his outstretched arm.

"Made a friend, have you?" Said Cortana with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Well, are you gonna keep it? It did help you with the death worm, or was it looking for a large dinner? If you're going to name it, it'd better be something classy, not some stupid name like Bob, or Tweety. Or Harold."

John looked at the bird and gently stroked its white feathers. Its clear green eyes stared back at him, looking past the visor. It was a brave and loyal creature, and he sensed it would follow him to the depths of hell, never leaving him.

"Samuel." He said softly. Memories from the distant past surfaced, invoked by that single word. Some happy, others sad.

"That's a good name," whispered Cortana. "It fits."

John nodded slightly in agreement, and picked up his pace to catch up with the group, with the newly dubbed Samuel on his shoulder.

* * *

**Notes:**

No offense to people named Bob or Tweety. Or Harold. I think it was kinda short, but I really wanted to post it. Oh, I checked out Halo Legends, and it was interesting, to say the least. I mean, Halo anime? Nerd's best dream! Or was it a geek? Whatever. And one of the episodes that feature Spartan-1337....ha ha ha, oh my god, it was like watching Dragon Ball Z, Naruto, and Red vs Blue all rolled up in a convinent package! I couldn't stop laughing! But yeah, go check 'em out on youtube or something. The stories are pretty nice, if a bit AU, and most of them are kinda sad, but that's the life of a Spartan for you. And a marine. And an Elite. And maybe Grunts, but they don't really have a life...and also be sure to check out me other stories! Like my new one, WTF: The Chronicles of Tod for Harry Potter fans. Yeah. Remember to review. It makes me update faster...kinda. Ciao.

- Chindu, Prince of Darkness


	6. Chapter 6: What a Girl Wants

**Hal's Story**

* * *

** OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OGM OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG **

**...Yeah, I'm just as amazed as you. It's an UPDATE! And there's gonna be ANOTHER ONE! MAYBE THIS WEEK! This fic ain't dead; I friggin' love it. I just...was really really depressed by Fable II and III (Well, I haven't played III yet, but I'm pretty sure I'll be depressed too). And...the hell was I talking about?...Whatever. Read the miracle. Oh, please, please review. I started writing this again because of reviews telling me to write. PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!**

**Disclaimer: Halo belongs to Bungie, Fable belongs to...I don't know, somebody, and the excerpt belongs to "Tales of Albion" that apparently doesn't exist anymore...  
**

* * *

**Chapter 6: What a Girl Wants**

The marketplace was small, but it sustained the trade needs of the village just fine, along with that of the occasional travelers that happened upon the place. Woven barrels of spice lined the stalls, while fishermen called out bargain prices for their latest haul. Incense and dust wafted from stall to stall. The cacophony of noises from livestock as well as people filled the air. The place was just busy enough that an armed and helmeted traveler could go about his business without standing out.

One particular traveler was less noticeable than he should have been. Standing seven feet tall, he wore a strange outfit with a combination of dark and green. The helmet he sported concealed his face behind a golden glass plate, with criss-crossing netting strewn across it to keep it in place. And if a passer-by were to take a closer look, they would notice a small blue figure flickering on his shoulder.

But for some reason, the strange outlandish traveler drew no curious eyes and strolled through the marketplace, occasionally looking at some wares and purchasing some supplies. And that suited John just fine.

"I like that one; it matches my skin tone." Cortana pointed at a light blue pendant dangling from a stall.

"You have no skin. How would you wear it?"

Cortana crossed her arms and glared at her companion's helmeted face. "You really know how to treat a lady, don't you?"

The Chief sighed and returned to bartering with the trader, who was staring at the gossamer-winged figure on his shoulder. Cortana directed her glare at him.

"What? Never seen a nymph before?"

The man gave a nervous apology and discreetly blessed himself with a gesture to protect him and his family from the wrath of this otherworldly creature.

"If you don't want to be stared at," said John as he moved away from the stall, "then maybe you shouldn't manifest yourself. That way you won't scare away every shopkeeper we meet." They'd spent the last two hours looking for a trader that who would be willing to barter with them. Each time, Cortana would see something she liked, asked for it, and be told off by the Chief. And each time she would vent her irritation out on the unfortunate trader. This scene played out quite a few times over the course of the morning.

"Then let me pick something!" Protested Cortana. "Just one little thing, and I'll stop scaring them away!"

John merely heaved a sigh and thought back to how things got like this.

-Flashback-

"Before you set foot in the land of Albion, or anywhere else outside this settlement, there are a few vital things you must keep in mind." Scythe sat with the Chief and Cortana in his personal tent. "It is imperative that you keep your origin secret. The same is said for your technology. If they were to fall into the wrong hands, great calamity will consume this land."

"Don't worry," said Cortana, "We know how to clean up after ourselves. I don't see anything good happening when you hand a gun to a monkey."

"Also, keep your mission hidden. Tell it only to those whom you trust inexplicitly. There are those who work in the service of evil, and these agents of darkness will do everything in their power to stop you from allaying the prophecy."

"Can you give us more information on them?" asked the Chief. He'd need more to go on than 'agents of darkness'. "It'd be good if we knew who we were fighting."

"I have a few notions as to who they are, but a better informant would be this." He reached into the folds of his tattered blue cloak and pulled out an old brown leather-bound book. He handed it to John.

"This once belonged to a great Hero. Long ago he saved the lands from a great evil that threatened to enslave this world. This was his logbook, which he filled with all his knowledge and experiences. It is also filled with contents from the many tomes he discovered over the years, and they may be helpful to you. He gave it to me for safekeeping, saying that one day I shall pass it on to one who would need it. I believe he was on the trail of the very evil that is plaguing us today, but knew he would not be the one to vanquish it. In it you will find clues to your mission.

"On another note, there is the matter of your Will capacity. There is enough dormant power in you to level a mountain, but without training it will be next to useless. This logbook also contains detailed procedures of how to perform most spells. The lad was quite keen in his studies." Scythe added the last part with a hint of nostalgia.

John looked at the grubby little book in his hands. It was an inch thick, and he doubted it could fit all that information. It looked very simple, like it was handmade by a child. He opened the book, and flipped through the pages. Each page had a title on it, and had snippets of the Hero's life. John skimmed through these, saving them for later reading, then stopped in the middle. He couldn't read on any further, because the pages were blank. He looked up and showed Scythe the blank pages.

"I believe there was a protection ward cast upon this book," Scythe said, "possibly to prevent the information from being seen by unworthy eyes. The pages will appear in due time, throughout the course of your quest."

Well that's annoying. The Master Chief preferred to know everything about the mission before jumping in headfirst.

"Now then, to traverse through the lands of Albion and beyond, we need to devise a way for you to do so undetected, or at least unheeded. A major problem would be your attire…"

"Hah, good luck getting him out of his suit," Laughed Cortana, "besides, I need it to be mobile. And I am NOT staying in a chip for the rest of the trip. A girl needs to be able to stretch her legs."

Scythe put a gnarled hand to his chin, pondering. "I wonder…yes, that will do nicely."

"What is it?" Asked John.

"I would like to cast an illusion spell on you. It will change the way people perceive you. They will be inclined to disregard your presence unless you will it. Your outfit will only change its form, but still retain its properties. If I may have your permission?"

"How long will it last?" If it was anything like Covenant cloaking devices, his mission will have to kiss subtlety good-bye.

"It will stay on for as long as you have Will in your body. I can teach you the spell for you to perform on your own, but it is rather lengthy and I would prefer if you keep the spell on for as long as you can."

John quietly conversed with Cortana, and they both agreed. Scythe assumed a meditative stance, raised his hands, and began to chant. The blue tattoo-like markings on his body began to glow and an aura surrounded his hands. After what seemed like hours, the chanting stopped and the blue glow faded. Scythe got up and looked at the Chief.

"You may wish to acquaint yourself with your new image." He pointed to a large mirror in the corner. John went over and was surprised at what he saw.

The MJNOLIR had morphed into what looked like a medieval version of it. The faded green plates were now some sort of reinforced leather, and the matte black body suit retained its original consistency. His helmet was turned into a cap with a reflective gold visor attached to it, covered with rope netting and a faceplate. All in all, he looked like any regular Joe from the 13th century.

"You look nice," commented Cortana.

"Thanks."

In addition, Scythe handed him a golden crest. It was circular, with an intricate design surrounding a backwards 'S'. Two bright blue gems were embedded in it that seemed to hold an inner fire of their own.

"This was once the Seal of the Hero's Guild," explained Scythe "It was given to graduated acolytes who venture out to make their mark on the world. Through this seal, the Guildmaster, their mentor and guide, could communicate with them at any given time. They were also able to use this to teleport to far-off places through portals called 'Cullis Gates'. I have modified this so that you can converse with me. Though many of the Gates have been destroyed or buried with time, there are still some intact. You need only to approach one in order to activate it."

-End Flashback-

Scythe showed John how to activate the teleportation crest. Cortana remarked on how incredible it was for this world to have devices like these. What they lacked in technology, they made up for in magic. The Master Chief had hoped it wasn't going to be like the Forerunner's mode of travel; it was…uncomfortable, to say the least. Scythe told them he would try to set up a temporary 'gateway' at their downed spaceship. It could act as a base of operations for replenishing ammunition, protection, and rest. Home sweet home.

Before they'd left, Malik offered them some pocket money to use on their journey. His version of 'pocket money' consisted of three chests of gold coins, four rolls of precious silk, seven barrels of spices, and a herd of camels to carry it all. John simply accepted a small bag of gold coins, promising to pay it back.

The two offworlders spent seven days trekking through sand, dust, and heat. If it wasn't for Cortana's nav-points, John knew he would have been wandering the desert forever. Years of exposure to military rations he had yet to develop a taste for them, and small reliefs were brought in the form of Samuel's hunting trips. How the bird managed to find game in this godforsaken land was a mystery to the Spartan.

His armour shielded him from the unforgiving rays of the sun as he marched across the dunes. The freezing nights were entertained by flipping through the Hero's logbook and researching this strange energy known as Will.

Just a few days ago, during one of his self-taught lessons in Will, the Chief was coerced by Cortana to 'experiment'.

-Flashback-

"Come on, Chief, broaden your horizons. You'll never know unless you try."

"I don't know about this," John said hesitantly, "What if something goes wrong? We know next to nothing about this stuff. We could end up killing ourselves."

"I've scanned through all possible outcomes of this and the worst case scenario would be if we blew a hole in your glove." Cortana continued to persuade him. "Indulge me just this once. Please?"

"…Fine." John finally relented and raised his hand up. Closing his eyes, he recalled the same feeling he had when breaking Scythe's barrier. He could feel a power building up within him, eager to be released. Concentrating hard, he willed the energy out through his open palm. A soft blue glow appeared as John scrunched his brow and slowly, he started to morph the glowing orb. At the same time, he felt the mercury presence of Cortana slowly leaving his mind.

"How…is…it?" He asked out loud, still concentrating hard with the orb. To his surprise, Cortana's voice came from the orb itself.

"It's…it's incredible." Her voice was faint and echoed, as if far away. The orb shone to the rhythm of her voice. "Just as I suspected, this energy…this Will, it's spread across this world like a network. And it feels…alive. I can trace everything back to this network; You, Samuel, the sand…even the stars." John listened to the breathless awe in her voice as she described the experience. "It seems to have similar properties as a matrix, but much, _much _more complex than anything manmade. I _should_ be able to travel through it…" John felt the last bits of her presence disappear from his mind as Cortana's voice faded away.

"Cortana?" No answer. The orb hovered listlessly in his hand. "Cortana! Can you hear me?" There was still no reply. A slight panic began to rise in him. He felt a sliver of her presence still left in his mind and he held on to it. John began to draw in the orb and pull back the Will that formed it. As he did so, he felt the cool sensation of the AI returning. "Cortana! Are you alright? What happened?"

It was several moments before she uttered a word. "Chief…promise me something." Her voice sounded shaken and quiet.

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never let go. Promise that you'll hold on no matter what."

"I…I promise." He vowed.

She gave out an audible sigh, relieved by his assurance. "Thank you."

"What happened, Cortana?"

"As I…moved into the Will matrix, it started to…absorb me. Yanking me, taking me apart. It was like being washed away in a strong current. If you hadn't pulled me back…" She shuddered at the thought.

"I won't let go, Cortana. I promise."

The resolution in his voice strengthened her, and in an instant she was back to her usual playful self.

"Not that this experiment was a failure. There are tons of possibilities we can explore now that I know to some extent how Will works. Let's get to work!"

The Spartan gave a rarely uttered exasperated groan.

-End Flashback-

After copious amounts of experimenting and practice, Cortana had managed to get the Chief to form a Will-powered avatar for her that could exist without the aid of a data chip. They decided on the form of a nymph shown in the Hero's logbook, which (though rarely seen nowadays) was a native inhabitant of these lands. The book told tales of people who befriended these creatures and would keep them as companions, so all they had to do was fabricate a story for inquiring minds.

Aside from gaining the freedom of mobility, Cortana discovered that she could also 'see' the essence of Will that connected all things to what she called 'the Network'. This Will essence was concentrated in the land and various creatures, and she noted that there was a very high concentration in John. It flared like a supernova within his core, and she briefly wondered why.

When they had arrived in this village, she scanned the area and was surprised at the lack of Will concentration. It seemed Scythe was right when he said few people could harness it. However, many objects held Will essence, some sold by traders and others she sensed buried deep beneath the earth. Cortana doubted the traders themselves knew of the hidden potential of their wares. Many of the trinkets she wanted to obtain were of such, and she wanted them for further examination. But it looks like that isn't going to happen since the Master Chief was being stingy. But with some more persuasion, she finally got him to fork over some gold to purchase a Will-infused crystal.

Nightfall, and the duo (trio if you count the bird) decided to check in to a traveler's inn. The cheap accommodations were nothing to jump at, but it served its purpose. The Chief wanted to get off the streets and out of sight because, although he tried his best to be discrete, there were quite a few people interested in him. Many were in the form of exotic pet collectors who were intrigued by the stranger in the possession of an extinct eagle and an ethereal creature.

Bringing his supper to the privacy of his room, John was able to remove his helmet and enjoy the peace. Cortana was occupied with running her routine system check, and Samuel was perched on the bedpost, enjoying a rat he had caught scurrying across the floor.

The Spartan ate his supper on the floor, for he doubted the rickety chair could support his one ton armour. Hmm, maybe there was a spell to make him lighter. John shook his head. He shouldn't become too dependent on magic. As useful as it was, there might come a time when he'll be unable to access it. The Logbook described places that nullified the power of Will and rendered most mages helpless. Magic was just another tool to help him on his mission. He's been fine without it.

As he ate, John absentmindedly flipped through the pages of the book. For such a small thing, it held a surprising amount of information. He needed only to think of what he wanted to know, and the information would magically appear on the pages. A useful trick.

The very first pages contained the script of a child, and one of the entries describes a birthday. But as John read on, it seemed tragedy struck the child, and the entries after that were more morose and dark. He read how the child grew, and learned the ways of the Hero. The writing became more refined and cultivated as the child became a man, but the content became grim and foreboding. The Hero in the entries spoke often about a dark force growing stronger at the time, and his desperate quest to stop it. He also mentions a bloodline, of which he belonged to.

_**It has been on my mind for some time now, Theresa's words. And now that Mother's gone and awakened this power within me, I am even more curious. Mother said we were special, that we belonged to an ancient bloodline of kings. It is this blood that Jack wants. It is because of this that my home was burned, my father murdered, my sister blinded, and my mother imprisoned. Well, if it's blood Jack wants, it's blood he will get.**_

The book goes on to describe the Hero's final battle with the Jack of Blades, a demon from another realm. His subsequent victory brought peace across the land for many years. During this time, the Hero began research on the realm called 'the Void', from which his adversary originated from. Through his findings, he dug up the history of Albion, and references to 'the Court'.

_**I've finally found him! The Archaeologist! That blasted man is harder to find than Silver Keys. I've managed to get him to tell me about the Old Kingdom, and the Court. **_

_**Legend has it that, when the world was young, Albion was a peaceful land full of tranquility and beauty. Then three came from the Void: the Knight, the Queen, and the Jack of Blades. They demanded that all men bow down before them. **_

_**When the people refused, the Court burned Albion until the earth turned black and the sky thick with smoke. Then the Court demanded obedience again, only to be refused a second time. This time the Court lifted the sea into the sky and flooded the world. **_

_**A third time the Court demanded that men worship them, promising peace and an end to their misery. Those who survived still refused. So the Court twisted their minds until brother slew brother, parents abandoned their children, and friend turned against friend. **_

_**Finally, the people of Albion bowed to the Court. They and their descendants toiled to raise monuments to those who came from the Void. **_

_**Jack told me he was old, but I never imagined just how old he was. This legend dates back to a time that far precedes the Old Kingdom. Just what kind of beings are they? **_

* * *

**Notes: ****I had some really cool topics to put here, but I forgot them...So...nice weather we're having?**

**- Chindu, Prince of Darkness  
**


	7. Chapter 7: The Blood of Revelations

**Hal's Story**

* * *

**Yo, man (and woman), I said maybe this week not absolutely-freakin'-positive this week. I AM NOT A LIAR. Now that I've cleared that up, a few things.**

**Geography of Albion (and whatever the hell their world's called) - Thanks to the douchbags of Lionsgate or something (they're not douchbags, they're awesome people. Please don't hurt me.) adding a WHOLE-FREAKING-CONTINENT to the plot and screwing with my conception of reality, Master Chief has now crash landed in the continent of Aurora. Y'know, sandy place, desert, giant creepy-assed monsters in Fable 3? So Albion's...where it is, and Samarkand, land of the Warrior Monks and druggies (no, not druggies, respected poppy flower cultivators. Please don't hurt me.) lies to the...north...south...EAST! East. So Aurora is like, where America is, but instead of open prairies, evergreen forests and obese children, it's sand, savanna, and starving children. I moved Africa. Big Whoop, wunna fight about it? (No, please don't, I bruise easily.) If they add someplace else in Fable 4, then...screw it, I'm going to sleep. (Good night!)**

**Disclaimer: ...zzz...zzzz...zzzz-GAH! **

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Blood of Revelations  
**

John woke with a start. The room was dark; the candle had burnt out hours ago. He must have fallen asleep. Lying on his lap was the logbook, open to the section of blank pages. His helmet on the table was silent, which meant Cortana was still concentrated on her own thing. Samuel was asleep perched on the bedpost, with its head tucked beneath its wing.

Suddenly, there was a click in the direction of the door. It was almost inaudible, but to the Chief's ears it was as clear as can be. Another click followed and he saw the doorknob turn. Someone was breaking into his room. He quietly stood as the figure slowly opened the door. The shadows completely hid the Spartan's bulk but with his enhanced sight he could easily see details in the dark.

The Chief silently observed the intruder to gauge their intent. If they went for his bags, then it was just a simple thief. But if they went for the bed, then it was an assassin, and with it came a whole mess of issues. At the tinkling of coins, the Master Chief knew what he was dealing with.

With amazing speed and stealth, the Chief made his way across the room undetected until he was right behind the thief. Might as well just scare them away to avoid any trouble. He concentrated like how Scythe instructed him and lessened the effect of his camouflage spell. What the intruder would see then is the seven-foot giant in all his glory. The Chief loudly cleared his voice and watched his plan unfold.

Unfortunately, his plan worked a bit too well. Upon seeing the towering figure behind him, the intruder let out a strangled yell and instinctively swiped at it with the only weapon he had; his lock pick. His reaction took the Chief by surprise. His reflexes helped him dodge, but forgot to compensate for the lack of his helmet. John felt a sting on his cheek, but thankfully the cut was shallow. As he stepped back, the intruder dropped the coin purse and fled from the room.

"Chief! Chief, are you alright?" Cortana's voice emanated from the helmet's speakers. The commotion also woke up Samuel, who began squawking and flapping its wings, irritated at being disturbed.

"I'm fine, it's just a scratch," John said as he tried to calm Samuel down. "Remind me to sleep with the helmet on."

"Better yet, why not sleep against the door? I doubt anyone could get it open then."

The Chief smirked at the comment and went to lock the door.

"I suggest you get that cut patched up," Said Cortana, "Who knows what kind of weird magical disease one could get in these parts."

"Maybe the book knows. There must be one or two in there," Said the Chief dryly.

As he bent down to pick up the logbook, a drop of blood ran down his cheek and fell on to the blank page. "Uh oh, that's not gonna come out easy-" His words died as he watched the red blotch sink into the page. It completely absorbed it, leaving naught a trace of the red liquid. Then, a bright light sprung from the book, nearly blinding the Spartan. When the light finally died down, he saw three words appear on the page, written in his own blood.

_**Blood Begets Blood**_

The red words then faded away, to be replaced by a message in normal ink.

_**Greetings. **_

_**If you are reading this, then I have left the mortal plane. I have entrusted this book with Scythe, in whom I have utmost faith to present it to one who is worthy for the Quest I am about to bestow upon. This Quest will determine the fate of this world, whether it thrives in light, or be consumed by Darkness. I can only hope the outcome is the former. **_

_**Take heed; the information contained in this book must be protected at all costs. It is only with the Bloodline are you able to break the spell and access the hidden parts of this book. Should those with ill intent obtain the knowledge in this book, the consequences will be devastating. Because of this, I have taken measures to ensure only parts of that knowledge be revealed at a time. This book shall act as your guide. It will lead you on your Quest to prevent what is to be the 'Third Reign'. **_

_**The First Reign occurred in ancient times, when the beings of the Court came to Albion and dominated its people. They were overthrown by the First Archon and thus the land was reclaimed. I myself have thwarted the Jack of Blade's attempts at a Second Reign. Though he is slain like his ilk, I fear history is doomed to repeat. **_

_**Like the First Archon, I too, became obsessed with the Court and dedicated my life to researching it. Through this, I have discovered that as long as one of the Court exists, they will forever attempt to enslave this world. I had thought that with the destruction of the Jack of Blades, the Court was finished. I was wrong.**_

_**The Knight, by the hands of the Archon, was destroyed completely. The Jack of Blades, by my own hands, I finished. The Queen, after weeks of raging battle, was slain by the Archon. But there is another.**_

_**The King.**_

_**Through my years of research and inquiries, I have discovered the existence of another member of the Court. Quite possibly the greatest. So very little information is there on the King, but one thing is for sure; He will be more powerful than all three combined. There are legends surrounding Him that He was the creator of this world, the Void, and the Court. A fallen God, the King of Demons, Avo and Skorm combined! **_

_**Whatever the truth may be, I only hope there is still time to prevent the Third Reign. Scythe foretold His coming in the form of a fallen star, a blackened sun, and a wounded earth. But the first sign is said to bring a Protector to fight the darkness, and I can only pray that it is you. **_

_**There are many steps in this Quest, filled with hardship and toil, but for the sake of this world, I beg you to carry on. If you are prepared and resolute, then journey to the village of Creed, on the eastern shore of Aurora. It is there that the next part of your Quest shall be revealed.**_

John read and reread the message several times, before donning his helmet and showing it to Cortana. She pondered over it for several cycles, before suggesting that they consult Scythe.

"He seems the type to know a bit about this kind of thing," she stated, "Let's see what he thinks, and then we'll plan accordingly."

The Master Chief agreed and fished out the Guild seal from his pack. Holding it in his palm, he concentrated and poured a little bit of his Will into it. The seal glowed blue momentarily, and John called out with his mind.

_-Scythe? Can we speak with you? Something happened with the Logbook.- _

Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then Scythe's rumbling voice echoed in his mind.

_-What has happened, Spartan?-_

The Master Chief recounted the night's incident to the wizened mage. There was a pause as the Chief waited for Scythe to reply.

_-You say your blood broke the seal? Interesting. He was rather attached to the concept of the Bloodline; it was quite ironic. It would make sense that he would use it as the catalyst; blood magic is powerful. But the mention of the Third Reign troubles me. I had hoped it was something else, but it is as I feared; the King is coming.-_

_-Who is the King?-_

_-You could say He and those of His kind are Gods. Bestowed with great and terrible powers, they are capable of destruction the likes of which mankind has never seen. They hail from a dimension of darkness and demons, and their thirst for conquest is insatiable.-_

John doubted what a demon could do to a world what he had witnessed happen to countless worlds. Visions of burned husks and countless dead flashed before his eyes, but he cleared his mind and instead focused on the important things.

_-But they can be killed?-_

_-As you have read; yes, the Knight, the Jack, and the Queen. But the King, He is a whole other level of existence. I cannot be sure if He can be killed by mortal means. I can only hope the boy had found some way to delay Him.- _

_-The message says my mission involves a method that should theoretically stop this King.-_

_-Then that is what you must do. Journey to Creed. Contact me if you require further assistance.-_

The Chief thanked him and cut off the connection. After relaying his conversation to Cortana, together they consulted a map of the area. Thankfully, Creed was not too far from the town they were currently in. It would take just a few days' march to reach it and so they planned their route to head out at dawn. John decided to log in a few more hours of sleep, but this time, he'd be sleeping against the door.

* * *

The outlanders' path to Creed took them along the eastern coast of Aurora, across sandy beaches with lapping waves and high cliffs that overlooked the sparkling ocean. The route was fairly peaceful, and traders and caravans often set up shop in small groups on the side road. During this time, Cortana revealed to the Chief a little pet project of hers that she had been planning.

"What would you say if I found a way to recharge the energy sword?" The AI suggested one night during camp. They would reach Creed by tomorrow.

"Then I'd find a way to make you solid and hug you." Replied the Chief as he stroked Samuel's feathers.

This made Cortana smile. "Cute, but I'll settle for a 'thank-you'."

"What have you got for me, Cortana?"

She pointed to John's pack, which started glowing blue. He searched through it until he unearthed the crystal he bought for her the other day in the market.

"Take that gem, and fuse it to the blade's handle using magic."

John looked at her curiously. "How? Why?"

"Just supply the power and leave the thinking to me, caveman."

The Chief merely shrugged and did as he was told. Surprisingly, the fusion created a T-shaped handle, with no trace of the crystal in sight. Also, the power button was gone. John gave the AI a pointed look, and she simply sighed, shaking her head.

"Put a little power into it. See what happens." She said helpfully.

Again, the Spartan did so, and the blade sprung to life! Its deadly edge erupted from the hilt, which he now held like a longsword. He tested it against a tree limb, and to his satisfaction it burned its way through the wood like paper.

"Cortana, this is amazing," Said the Chief after he had his fun with his 'new' blade. "How does it work?"

Cortana drew her avatar up smugly, proud of her own handiwork. "The crystal in the hilt is a Will-conduit crystal. It takes your magic and, with the right manipulation, can be used to simulate the energy used in the plasma blade. And since you're a bottomless pit of magic, that thing won't ever go out. But if it's anything to you, you can still use the hilt as a blunt instrument."

John smiled and tucked the blade hilt away. This will come in handy later on. And so it did, the very next day.

As the Master Chief made his way past a ruin of sandstone, his motion tracker detected several dots slowly moving towards him. He launched Samuel into the sky, keeping it away from harm.

"They're camouflaged with the ground and hiding behind the ruins," said Cortana, using her sensors, magical and mechanical, to be her eyes. "They're human, but be prepared." He made no outward signs that he was alerted, but covertly held the energy blade hilt in his hands. "Heartbeats quickening. They're getting ready to pounce." Just as she said it, a group of people jumped up out from under a sandy tarp and drew out their swords.

John recognized their attire; it was the same group that attacked Malik's settlement. However, he was still hesitant in fighting them. They were humans. He'd spent most of his life protecting the human race, so why did he have to fight them now? He fended them off before because they were threatening innocents, but their swords couldn't possibly harm him in his armour.

Seemingly reading his thoughts, Cortana said in his ear, "This place could do with less people like them. There will always be evil people in the universe, Chief. If you don't want to kill them, scare 'em off like you did with the thief." John agreed and lowered his illusion. He could see the raiders' eyes widen with surprise as they saw the Spartan in his true form. When he activated his blade, some of them remembered him as the green demon who massacred their comrades with a blade of lightning.

"_I'll give you a warning_," He growled out in Arabic, "_If you surrender now, I'll let you go. But if you provoke me, you _will_ die." _His threat caused the attackers to withdraw a little, but their leader, either confident or stupid, refused to stand down.

"_Speak for yourself, demon. Anyone who crosses the path of Adham will suffer a thousand deaths, be they mortal or spirit!"_ The man charged at the Chief with his sword raised high.

In a flash, the man found himself on the ground, his weapon melted in half. His companions stood in shock as they didn't even see the movement. The Master Chief pointed his blade at them and said, "_Anyone else_?" They fled immediately, abandoning their leader to his fate.

"Well that was easy," scoffed Cortana. "You didn't even dismember any of them. Guess your reputation as a Demon is true no matter what universe you're in."

"What do we do about him?" The Chief nudged the unconscious man with his boot. "It doesn't seem like his lackeys are coming back for him."

"Tie him to a cactus and leave him there. He'd be getting off lightly for the things he's done."

Just as the Chief was about to comment that there were no cacti in this place, he heard a muffled noise coming from the ruins. He made his way over there, and discovered a boy bound and gagged. There were packs and traces of fires that suggested the raiders had camped out here. They probably kidnapped the boy to be sold as a slave. Poor thing looked only to be seven years of age.

The Master Chief approached him, intending to cut his bonds, but the boy whimpered and backed away, eyes widening in fear.

"Don't you have any tact?" Said Cortana. "Let me." She manifested herself and slowly floated towards the terrified boy, who forgot his fear for a moment to stare at the beautiful creature. While she kept him calm, the Chief removed the ropes binding him and lifted him up. The boy seemed weak and his ankles and wrists were bruised from the ropes. There were some bruises that were visible over his dark skin, and it made John wish he'd killed the bastards when he had the chance.

Cortana spoke to the boy in several dialects common to Earth's Africa, and got a response from him for one of them. John recognized it as Swahili.

"His name is Safi," Cortana told the Chief, "He's the son of the village chief of Creed. He says he was kidnapped by the raiders a few days ago and they were holding him for ransom."

"I know. I heard."

Cortana seemed surprised at this. "You do? How? Mendez never taught you this language."

"No, but Johnson did."

"He knew Swahili?"

"He told me his great-grandfather was born Swahili and his aunt wanted him to keep in touch with his heritage." John smiled as he remembered the short but informative lessons Johnson gave during rest periods between battles. "Said my accent was horrible."

"I bet it was," said Cortana lightly, "But come on, let's get this kid home."

The Master Chief gave Safi some of his water and food, of which was quickly consumed, then picked him up and made his way towards Creed. He boy's countenance towards the Spartan changed drastically from his initial reaction. He laughed merrily throughout the trip and admired and petted Samuel. Cortana chatted with him about his daily life, and John picked up a few things.

Safi told him of his daily lessons in hunting, fishing, and leadership by his father and tutors. He loves riding out onto the surfs and watching the sun rise and set on the horizon. He hates the roots his mother makes him eat, but does so anyway so he can grow up as tall as his father.

"_What about you, Hala?"_ Sali asked John, "_What do you like?_"

"_Pardon?" _Asked the Chief. "_What did you call me?"_

"_Hala! You didn't tell me your name, so I gave you one instead! I named you 'Hala' because your great sword scared away the bad people who hurt me."_

John continued to look at him in confusion. Cortana chuckled and said, "You know in Arabic, 'Hala' means 'halo around the moon'" John turned to look at her at the mention of the ring, but then sighed and shook his head. He may be a super-soldier, but even he couldn't keep up with the antics of a seven-year-old.

"_Thank you for the name, Safi. I think I'll keep it."_ His comment was enough to excite Safi for the rest of the trip.

When they finally reached the village, there was a lone figure standing on the outskirts. Safi seemed to regain all his energy and leap from John's arms. He dashed towards the figure shouting "_Baba! Baba!_" The figure turned and even at this distance the Chief could tell he was surprised. With a shout of "Safi!" in reply, he scooped the boy up and embraced him in a fierce hug. The Spartan slowed his pace, giving father and son the privacy for their reunion. It was only until the boy pointed in his direction did he approach them. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

* * *

Johnson. Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson, UNSC SN: 48789-20114-AJ. Date of birth: 2470. Date of Death: 2552…

…Date of Death: 2552. He died on the Ark. Spark killed him. _Killed _him. He died _in my arms._ He DIED. Die, die, DIED! He should be DEAD! WHY ISN'T HE DEA-!

* * *

"Chief! The other chief's talking to you."

John was jolted from his thoughts as if electrocuted. _What was _that? He thought. He just experienced a sudden, uncontrollable bloodlust, urging him to…kill? What? Why?

Unfortunately, he couldn't think any more on the matter because Sergeant Johnson's face was looming before him.

"_My son says you saved him from those cursed raiders." _Johnson's face he may have, but the heavy accent broke the effect. The leopard skin loincloth may have also had something to do with it._ "I am forever in your debt, stranger_."

"_Baba, his name's not_ '_stranger_', _it's Hala!"_ Piped up Sali tugging his father's arm.

"_Oh, yes, thank you, Hala. My name is Abasi, Chief of Creed. Please come with me, the hospitality of my village is the least I can offer you_." John didn't bother correcting him on his name. He followed Abasi into the village.

Abasi was a lot younger than Johnson when he-…Abasi was a lot younger. Absent also was the gung-ho sarcasm and the Sweet William Cigar usually found plugged in his mouth. Of course. Didn't Cortana tell him there might be others here that were duplicates like Fhajad? No, Halim? This is insane. It's like the Flood came and raised the dead all over again! Except this time they weren't mutilated monsters, but distant strangers with the faces of dear friends. In a way, this was even more unbearable. But a Spartan was a Spartan, and he steeled himself the way only a Spartan could.

* * *

**Notes: Guess what? When I looked up the name Hala, I was freaking surprised to see its' meaning. I'M A PROPHET! (No I'm not, please don't kill me...is that ironic?) In swahili it means 'Great, Dazzling' or something. So either Fable choose names like I do, or it's gonna be Lady Gaga's new outfit...yeah, I don't get it either. Master Chief's going bonkers? Oh no! What ever shall we do? Can you guess the cameo coming up next chapter? I'll give you a hint: *whisper whisper* Didja get it? Yes? No? Ah, hell with it. Later.**

**- Chindu, Prince of Darkness**

**(P.S. I am so sorry for the pun in the Chapter's title. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME.)  
**


End file.
